Fanfic Court Part 2B: The Trial Continues
by Bits And Pieces
Summary: The Court Reporter has changed, but your duty is the same: You have been subpoenaed to appear as a witness in case #0876707. This portion is now complete. Snooky will handle the closing.
1. Sapphyrebird's lunch conspiracy

Your previous Court Reporter, snooky-9093, has had to take an unexpected leave-of-absense, so I will be filling in for her for the time being. If you have testimonies to submit, feel free to PM me, Bits and Pieces, and I will send you my email address. And since we're still on a lunch break, I thought this would be appropriate to start with. :D

* * *

A Little Bit Of Conspiracy For Lunch…

A/N: Just a reminder, although my pen name is SapphyreBird, I also go by ShadowHawk. Just so there's no confusion…

* * *

"C'mon _Fräuline, mach schnell_," Hochstetter urged as he stood behind ShadowHawk. She was sitting in a chair with a laptop on… well, on her lap---imagine that---and was typing quickly.

"I'm going as fast as I can! If I type any faster, I'll start making even more mistakes and spend even more time hitting the Backspace key!" she replied without taking her eyes off the computer screen in front of her. Hochstetter began pacing, causing ShadowHawk to turn around.

"Dude, chill out, okay?"

"Hey, less talking and more typing!" ordered Hochstetter. ShadowHawk sighed slightly and resumed typing.

"Ya know, sometimes I don't think you really appreciate me…"

Hochstetter stopped pacing and looked at the girl in front of him. _If I want to keep her in the palm of my hand, I'll have to play up to her,_ he thought. He bent down so that his face was right next to hers.

"_Es tut mir leid¹, meine Fräuline_," he breathed in her ear. "It's just I'm not sure how much time we have before the trial starts up again, and I'd prefer it if we could get as much done as we can. I doubt you'll be able to write on your---what did you call it? A laptop?---once we're back in the courtroom," he tried to explain. _Ugh. Affection was never my strong suit… Thank God for those captured American films…_

"It's alright, Major; I really do understand," ShadowHawk replied as she faced the major, practically touching him nose-to-nose, causing her to blush slightly. She stared deep into his eyes. It was just so different when he wasn't on the other side of a television or computer screen. "Worst case scenario, I could always write the old-fashioned way: with pen and paper."

"_Ja,_ but then someone might see and figure out what's going on. And I'd rather not take that risk; it's obvious the judge already dislikes me, and I think it's pretty safe to say that the rest of the courtroom does, too. They wouldn't hesitate to charge me as well… if they found out."

"Well that's why I created that code name for you!"

"'Black Wolf?' I don't think they'd have much trouble figuring that one out, _Fräuline_."

"All right, all right, point taken," ShadowHawk sighed. "And besides, if anyone gets in trouble, it'll probably be me for letting you talk me into this…"

Hochstetter smirked. It hadn't been too difficult to "persuade" the teen. In fact, it was almost too easy! He didn't even have to torture anybody! ShadowHawk continued on.

"It's just that I wish you'd show me a little more appreciation… that's all…"

"Alright, then… How's this?" He then lightly kissed her on the cheek, making her blush even more. "Is that better?" he asked. ShadowHawk laughed giddily.

"Okay. I forgive you," she said breathlessly. Hochstetter smiled.

"Ah, _das ist gut, meine Fräuline_. Now, continue, _bitte_."

"_Jawohl, meinen Herr_," ShadowHawk replied enthusiastically and continued typing again with a newer, stronger resolve.

Hochstetter smirked again and straightened his posture. _This girl is just too easy to manipulate! Pure putty in my hands!_ The major couldn't help but chuckle lightly to himself.

"What's so funny, Wolfie?" ShadowHawk asked innocently.

"_Nichts_²---Wait, 'Wolfie?'" Hochstetter repeated while raising a brow. "Aren't we being a little_ too_ familiar?"

ShadowHawk looked down. "Sorry," she said apologetically. "Force of habit… ya know, with my fantasies and all…"

"It's all right. I don't mind when no one else is around," Hochstetter said with a casual wave of his hand. He then paused for a moment's thought. "You can explain to me these so-called 'fantasies' later."

"Are ya sure ya really wanna know?" ShadowHawk asked cautiously.

"I'm the Gestapo; it's my job to know."

"I realize that, but sometimes ignorance is bliss…"

"How bad could they be?" Hochstetter was beginning to feel a little nervous. Just what exactly went on in this girl's mind?

"Um…" The American hesitated, somewhat embarrassed. "Does the term 'X-rated' mean anything to you?"

Hochstetter just stared at ShadowHawk, speechless.

"... I think you really need a boyfriend…"

"Is that an offer??" she asked hopefully.

"Uh, not exactly…"

"Oh…"

"You may want to consider seeing a psychiatrist or something…"

"I don't think it would help," ShadowHawk said while shaking her head. "You see, I'm beyond any psychiatrist's repair."

"I won't argue with you there…"

"Well, at least we can agree on something…"

"_Ja_."

"Indeed."

"_Fräuline_, stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Trying to get in the last word; it's annoying."

"Okay. Sorry."

"That's alright… as long as you don't say anything after I do."

A silent second passed as ShadowHawk tried to repress a smile.

"You got it!"

"_Fräuline_!"

"Hee hee hee," giggled ShadowHawk as she diligently continued typing away.

A few moments of silence passed, broken only by the sound of keystrokes. Eventually, ShadowHawk stopped, sighed, and faced Hochstetter again.

"Hey, uh, Wolfgang?" she called out quietly.

"Yes?"

"I'm, uh… gonna have to write one about you, too, ya know…"

"What?!"

"Well, I mean, think about it! Don't ya think it'd look a little suspicious if I started killing off Hogan and everyone else all of a sudden and left you completely alone?" ShadowHawk stated. "I mean, everyone saw my obsequiousness for you back in the courtroom!"

"Obsequiousness," Hochstetter echoed. "Have you been using the thesaurus again?"

There was a clicking sound as ShadowHawk quickly closed something on her laptop.

"Perhaps..."

The major sighed before returning his focus to the situation at hand. He wasn't too thrilled at being killed off… again.

"I'm not too crazy about the idea, _Fräuline_…"

"Well, neither am I; the last thing I want to do is hurt you---"

Hochstetter gave her a look. He didn't need to say which story was on his mind.

ShadowHawk quickly revised her sentence.

"I mean, hurt you without any real point. But it's a necessary evil! I'm only doing it because I don't want you to get in trouble for influencing my writing!"

Hochstetter sighed again, slowly resigning himself to his next fate. He couldn't deny that the girl had a valid point.

"…Alright… What did you have in mind?"

"I dunno… But I'll let ya know as soon as I think of it… Or as soon as _we_ think of it…"

"Hmph, helping write my own death," Hochstetter mused. "Just like actually pulling the trigger myself."

ShadowHawk's eyes lit up. Hochstetter was becoming familiar with that look in her eye; the look of an epiphany.

"_Was ist los?_"

"That's it!" ShadowHawk grinned evilly. "Suicide! Mwah ha ha ha!"

"Hey! This _is_ me we're talking about!" Hochstetter growled. "Show a little respect!"

"Sorry…" ShadowHawk bowed her head. "I just can't control the evilness sometimes…!"

"Obviously…"

"But it works! _And_ it'll be a quick and semi-painless death, too!"

"Semi-?"

"Well, if you're on the verge of suicide, odds are you're in _some_ kind of pain…"

Hochstetter grumbled to himself for a minute before heaving a defeated sigh.

"Alright. Fine. Let's get this over with. What are you thinking?"

"Oh, I don't know…. Maybe it could be at the end of the war, or something…"

Hochstetter was confused. "But why would I kill myself after we win the war?"

ShadowHawk was quiet.

"We _do_ win, don't we?"

"Well, it's a completely hypothetical situation anyway, so lets just say, for the sake of the story, that Germany doesn't win," ShadowHawk said quickly and nervously. "The story will make more sense that way…"

Hochstetter's eyes narrowed in suspicion. For the first time in his life, he felt himself begin to question his country, but after quickly realizing that was treasonous, he pushed those feelings away. _I'll pursue this later…_ he promised himself as he looked away from the American. _She_ was the one that was probably wrong anyway.

"Just get to work."

"Yes, sir…"

* * *

1) "I'm sorry"  
2) "Nothing"


	2. El Gringo Goes Loco, part 1

Part One

* * * * * *

Annoyed by the incessant knocking, the elderly man reached for his cane. "I said I'm coming dammit. Keep your shirt on." Seeing a younger man in a black trench coat and fedora he snapped brusquely.

"What the blazes do you want?"

"Are you El Gringo Loco?"

"Who's asking?"

The man repeated his question. I blocked his attempt to push his way in. "I heard you the first time buster. For your information this is my home. And I don't recall inviting you. So you can either tell me who you are and state your business. Or get out before I call the cops to pick up what's left of you."

Thinking *I don't get paid enough for this* the man took off running. Satisfied the man poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, sat down at his computer and lit a cigarette.

About a half hour later a feeling of electrical current washed over him. And a strangely shimmering column of light appeared in the room. Pulling himself to his feet the man braced himself and with both hands swung the heavy wooden cane at the head of the rat faced being taking shape within. The being crumpled, then it and the column disappeared.

Shaken the man reached for his cigarettes, lit one, then jammed the pack and lighter into his pocket. A moment later a similar column enveloped him. The room went dark then disappeared.

After what seemed a short eternity he found himself within a strange vestibule. Something almost but not quite human, with a mass of heavy bone over his eyes, was holding his cane and pointing a pistol like device at him. Tapping his chest the creature spoke in a gravely voice. "Worf to Commander Riker. We have him commander. He appears to be in some distress."

A woman's voice came thru the device. "Crusher to Worf. What kind of distress?"

"He appears to be in considerable pain and is having trouble breathing. He just collapsed, doctor."

"Beam him over to sickbay."

A moment later a redheaded woman in a lab coat was running a scanner over the man's chest. "He's having a heart attack and based on these readings it's not his first." Pressing an injector to the man's arm she went on. "I've given him medication to stabilize his condition. When it does he'll need surgery and monitoring for several days."

* * * * * *

Several hours later the man woke in a strange bed surrounded by alien looking machines. The same red headed woman moved to his bedside. "Hello. There wasn't time for introductions when you were brought in. I'm Doctor Beverly Crusher, Chief medical officer aboard the United Starship Enterprise. They told me you're sometimes called El Gringo Loco. Is that what you want to be called?"

"It'll do for now."

"Are you sure? You were carrying what appear to be identity documents identifying you as -?"

"You didn't ask my name. You asked what I wanted to be called."

"Alright. But I have to enter a name in the medical log." Producing my driver's license she asked. "Is this the one I should use?"

Resigned I sigh. "Yes. You'll find my insurance card in there as well."

"I won't need that. But since you clearly don't want to use your name. What do you want us to call you?"

"Look doctor. I appreciate your concern but I didn't ask to be brought here - wherever this is. So since you want to call me something. How about calling me a cab so I can go home and die in peace?"

At that moment a man stuck his head in the door. "If you have a moment doctor."

The doctor stepped out. I strained to hear, but couldn't make out what was being said.

A short time later both entered. I asked. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

The man spoke first. "Do you always carry high explosives in your pocket?"

Stunned by the question, I then realized why he was asking. "Let me guess. You found a small brown bottle filled with white tablets marked Nitroglycerine in my pocket."

"Why were you carrying it?"

"If it's any of your business."

"You brought it onto this ship which makes it my business."

"Like I told the doctor. I didn't ask to come here. Nor was I given any choice in the matter. But if you must know it's medication for my heart."

"High explosives - used as medication? Do you know anything about this doctor?"

"No. But let me check. Computer, scan old earth medical files, pharmacological data base,, 21st century, for any mention of nitroglycerine being used as medication."

A mechanical sounding voice replied. "Working" Followed a moment later by "Several references found for use of Nitroglycerine preparations in treatment of cardiac patients."

"Ask that thing if it shows anything about low dose preparations being given patients to use at home."

I confess to being a bit startled when the computer answered. "Affirmative. Several preparations found. Displaying relevant files."

A moments glance brought the man's grudging apology. "We didn't know. So we confiscated it when our transporter sensors classified it as a weapon."

"You might want to fix that before you kidnap another heart patient."

Judging by their reactions I knew I'd hit on a relevant and rather touchy subject. My status here and more importantly, to me at least, my prospects of getting home again. In for a penny I thought and decided to press the issue. "You took me from my home and brought me here against my will. Why?"

The man answered. "You didn't leave us any choice."

"I don't recall being offered one."

"We tried inviting you twice. But you weren't very cooperative. In fact you assaulted one of our messengers injuring him rather severely."

"What messenger? That rat faced thing with the huge ears?"

"Yes him. Why did you hit him?"

"He broke into my home. I was defending myself. You wanted to get in touch with me you could have picked up the phone."

"We had our reasons."

"I'm sure you did. But speaking of reasons. You still haven't told me why you brought me here?"

"We'll get to that."

"Now would be a good time. Am I under arrest? And if so for what and by what authority?"

"I wouldn't call it arrest."

"Then what would you call it?"

"Protective custody pending further orders of the court.

"Further orders of what court? I want a lawyer, now, before I -" I fell back on the bed as my chest tightened and it again became difficult to breath.

Again the doctor leaned over me. Telling the man called Riker, "Save it Will. This man had a heart attack a few hours ago. I'd barely gotten him stabilized when you got here. And the stress you're creating is costing him big time. Nurse, prep the surgical unit for cardio stat."

"Sorry Beverly I didn't realize."

"Tell that to him if he survives. Now get out of here and let me do my job."

* * * * * *

Later in Judge Stone's chambers.

Mr. Mason raised the delicate issue. "Your honor. Our next witness is unable to testify at this time due to a medical emergency, caused no doubt by the prosecutions ham handling of this whole affair."

"Objection your honor. This witness suffered a heart attack in transit and is being treated aboard our vessel."

"Does he have a history of heart problems?"

"Apparently so your honor. According to our chief medical officer he's suffered at least two serious heart attacks in the past. She says he has other conditions, all previously unknown to us, that left untreated would make him a transporter risk under the best of circumstances."

"I'll need her statement to that effect. So. Are you telling me he's stuck - up there?"

"No your honor. We just can't bring him back yet or the same way we took him."

"Would it be possible for us to take his testimony aboard your vessel?"

"I'd have to clear that with my captain your honor. But rather than transport all of these people. Might I suggest setting up a video link?"

"A question your honor."

"Go ahead Mr. Mason."

"Would this video link be a filmed deposition with the defendant answering prepared questions? Or would we be able to communicate both ways?"

"Commander."

"It would be a live two way communication between our sickbay and this courtroom."

"If it pleases your honor. I'd reserve the right to object, but won't at this time."

"So noted. Commander, I'll need your chief medical officer's sworn statement in my hands by tomorrow morning."

"I'll see to it your honor."

"Fine. Then we'll call it a day and have the jury back in the morning to hear Mr. Mason's next witness."


	3. El Gringo Goes Loco, part 2

Part Two

* * * * * *

I woke to see a dark haired woman in a blue dress enter my room. "I see you're awake. I'm Deana Troi, Ships Counselor. They tell me you've had quite a go of it."

I look at her warily. "They tell me that too. Now, suppose you tell me what a ship's counselor is and why you're here?"

"A ship's counselor listens to people's problems and helps them work through them. I'm here because the doctor thought you might like someone to talk to."

"In other words she thinks I'm nuts. And you drew the short straw when she yelled for a shrink."

"Nobody thinks you're nuts. But even without the heart attack this would have to be a stressful situation for you. And she thought that having someone to talk to might make it a bit easier."

"It might. If they were saying something."

"What would you want them to say?"

"They could start with why I was brought here to begin with? Then they could try telling me when I can leave?"

"That should be obvious. You were brought to sickbay because you're sick. And you won't be leaving until Dr Crusher says you're ready."

"That much is obvious. What isn't, is why I was taken out of my home by your device and brought here against my will. Since I was taken without warning and greeted by some goon at gunpoint. I'm not stupid enough to believe I'm anybody's honored guest. Now you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"The device that brought you here is called a transporter. And the person you're referring to as a goon, was Lieutenant Worf our security officer. From there it gets rather complicated."

"Then why don't you un-complicate it?"

* * * * * *

Five days later

"All rise. The Criminal Court Part II, City of New York, is now in session. Case number 0876707. The honourable Harold T. Stone presiding,"

A loud whoosh of air is heard as the judge takes his seat. Snickers are heard as Judge Stone reaches down and holds up a flat round object. "Anybody lose a whoopie cushion?" Scowling a moment later he goes on. "This is not funny, people. Any more such pranks and somebody's going to be held in contempt. Counsel for both sides approach the bench."

After a brief conference the judge announced, "This morning's session will be a bit unusual. According to his doctors sworn statement. The next witness was suddenly taken ill and cannot be brought to court at this time. Commander Riker graciously arranged, with Mr. Mason's consent, for us to take his testimony by video link. So if you'll give your attention to the TV monitors. The court calls the man known as El Gringo Loco."

The TV screens come alive with the image of an older man with grey hair and glasses sitting calmly behind a table. The judge began. "First for the record. Are you the man known in the Fan Fiction realm as El Gringo Loco?"

Though pale and clearly ill the man's voice was clear and strong. "I am."

"And again for the record, starting from the witnesses left, will the others in attendance identify themselves?"

"Dr. Beverly Crusher, senior medical officer in charge of this man's care."

"Thank you doctor. Next?"

"Lieutenant Deana Troi, Ships counselor."

"Lieutenant Worf, Senior security officer."

"Ensign Charles Parker, Security officer."

"I know those people." A wide eyed Hogan turned to Riker. "What's HE doing on the Enterprise?"

"Thank you." The judge then turned his attention to me. "El Gringo Loco. How did you come to be called that?"

"You wouldn't believe how many times I've been asked that."

"Probably not. But that doesn't answer my question."

"What was the question again?"

"I asked, how you came to be known as El Gringo Loco?"

"Well, if it's any of your business. It was just something I made up."

"What else are you called?"

"A lot of things. Most of which I'd rather not repeat in mixed company." This brought a loud round of snickering in the courtroom.

The judges voice dropped. Scowling he replied. "Well I'm about ready to call you in contempt."

"Do that. And it'll be just you, me and my word processor."

"Are you threatening me?"

"How very perceptive of you to notice."

Riker jumped to his feet. "Your honor. I ask that this individual be declared a hostile witness."

"Well, he certainly is hostile. Doctor, would you tell us about the witness' state of mind?"

"That would be more Counselor Troi's area of expertise."

"Fine. Counselor, what can you tell me?"

"Well your honor. His thought processes appear clear. And he's expressed a fair amount of anger since he was brought here. Enough that I believe he's using it to shield his other thoughts."

"Is that really possible?"

The counselor seemed surprised by the question. "Sensitives do it all the time."

"I'm sorry. Sensitives?"

"Telepaths, Empaths and the like."

"Now I'm confused. Are you saying this man is a telepath? That he can read minds?"

"No, your honor. Merely that he's using a technique similar to theirs to shield his own."

"Okay. Now that's established, I'm calling a break to keep from losing my own. Mr. Mason, I suggest you use it to educate your client.

Court reconvened a half hour later. Judge Stone looked at the screen. Addressing me he asked. "Is there anything you'd like to say before we reopen the proceedings."

He was clearly expecting an apology. Well, I'd already told Mr. Mason that he wouldn't be getting one. He in turn had advised me to shut up and let him do the talking. He stood facing the bench. "If it please the court."

"Go ahead Mr. Mason."

"I ask that this man's testimony be continued until such time as he can appear in person."

"Objection your honor. Mr. Mason already agreed to the video link."

"That's true Mr. Mason. And on the strength of that the commander went to the trouble of setting it up. Why are you changing your mind now?"

"At present, the witness is in the care and custody of persons under the prosecutor's command. Literally dependant on them for the air he breathes. And while I believe them to be ethical beings, my client feels that his very existence might be in jeopardy if they take exception to his testimony."

Riker jumped to his feet. "I object to that insinuation. It's true that he was brought in under duress after some difficulty serving the subpoena. He collapsed on arrival and has been confined to our sickbay since, though strictly for medical reasons. And far from being abused, he's been given the very best medical care we can provide."

Turning to Riker Mason told him. "I didn't say your people would harm him. On the contrary, it sounds to me like he's receiving excellent care. But that is how he views his situation."

Looking up from his etch a sketch the judge cut in. "Commander, Mr. Mason, in the future, please address your comments to the bench. Not each other." He then turned to the screen. "Doctor. How long will it be before it's safe to move your patient?"

"That's hard to say your honor. He's going to need more surgery, just a simple heart replacement. But, even so it'll be at least a month."

I feel myself go into shock. "WHAT?" A gasp went through the courtroom as the judge echoed my sentiments. Growling "Prime Directive Doctor" Riker pushed a button cutting off the sound.

A shaken but not stirred judge turned to Riker. "Commander Riker. Stop the feed and play back my last question to the doctor and her response. Then you can tell me why you objected to the court hearing it."

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife as I was taken back to my room. On one level, I liked Dr Crusher. She had after all saved my life. But there was a lot I didn't know about 24th century medicine. So much so advanced that, from my perspective, a lot of it might as well have been witchcraft.

She came in to check me once I was settled. This time there was no greeting and only the necessary questions were asked. Finally she closed her scanner and looked at me. "Do the words, - I swear before Apollo the physician, Heath and All Heal his daughters and all the Gods and Goddesses - mean anything to you?"

The wording was a bit different than I remembered. But I recognized them as the beginning of the Oath of Hippocrates. "We used a slightly different wording. But yes they do."

"I thought they might. So let me tell you something. I'm a doctor not a butcher or torturer. I may not like all of my patients. But when someone, anyone, comes through the sickbay door needing my help it doesn't matter who they are. How they got here. Or even how I feel about them. I do the very best I can for them. And considering what we found out about your background, I'm highly insulted that you could believe otherwise." She turned and left without waiting for a response or saying another word.

The rest of the day went quietly. I didn't see the doctor again. But her staff made the necessary checks and brought my meals. They were polite and attentive to my needs. But none of them said anything beyond what was necessary to do their job.

I did have some rather interesting visitors the next day. One of them was the ships captain, an older bald headed man by the name of Jean Luc Picard. He too was insulted by my remarks during the hearing. And he made it clear that the insult extended to his crew as well. He demanded to know if I'd been abused or threatened in anyway since my arrival. When I told him no, he told me that while he understood my fear, I owed his crew an apology. He then told me that if anyone dared do such a thing aboard his ship it was to be reported to him immediately. And that the guilty parties, whoever they were would most assuredly answer to him.

Another visitor was a mysterious dark skinned woman in a hat I'll never forget. Disarmingly quiet, she introduced herself only as Guinan, and told me that she ran a lounge called Ten Forward. I was polite and told her I was glad to meet her. Then though normally a non drinker, I added that I could really use a good stiff drink right about then. She smiled and told me she was sure I could. But that she was pretty sure the Doctor wouldn't allow it.

Part of me wanted to trust the woman. And in other circumstances I might have. But the fact remained that she was a fictional character. And, while no one had used the word. I was, however well treated, a prisoner in their world.


	4. Lt Jackman's Testimony, by ColHogan

Lieutenant Noel Jackman's testimony, submitted by ColHogan

* * * * * *

Court had resumed the next day and Hogan and his men were all seated in the front row of the gallery. The author known as ColHogan had slipped down to the front row and sat beside the Colonel, linking her arms through his. Hogan turned and looked at her with both eyebrows raised in surprise. But he didn't say anything, nor did he make any attempt to disengage himself. After all, he figured this one wasn't as bad as some of the others. At least this one didn't kill any of them even though he was the primary target in all her stories.

It was then that Judge Stone sat down behind the bench and sighed. He had a slinky in his hands that he played with out of sight of the court. He looked at Perry Mason.

"Mr. Mason, you may call your next witness."

Mason stood up. "Thank you, your Honor. I wish to call Lieutenant Noel Jackman to the stand."

All heads turned towards the back of the courtroom and watched as a tall, handsome RAF officer stood up and made his way down to the witness stand. There were gasps from the gallery when everyone saw the striking resemblance between him and Colonel Hogan. He raised his right hand and put his left on the book which he had to chuckle when he saw what it was.

"You're using a hardcover book on American history?" Jackman asked in his British accent. "What happened to the one you were using, if one may ask?"

"Someone stole it," Bull replied. "At least I think someone stole it. Or did I leave it in the lunchroom?" He appeared lost in thought.

"Bull!" Harry brought him out of his haze. "The witness?"

"Yes sir," Bull replied. He swore in Jackman and as Jackman took the stand, Bull went back to his post, trying to remember where he had left the other book.

Mason approached the witness stand. "Lt. Jackman. Would you please tell the court your full name?"

"Lieutenant Noel Jackman, RAF. That's Royal Air Force."

"Now, Lt. Jackman, you seem to bear an uncanny resemblance to Colonel Hogan. Anybody looking at you can see that. But can you sound like him also?"

"If that's what you want me to do," Jackman replied in his Hogan-like voice. There were gasps from the gallery when they heard Jackman speak in Hogan's voice.

"I understand before the war, lieutenant, you were an actor?"

"Yes, sir. I was."

"I see." Mason tapped his pencil in his other hand. "Lieutenant, how did you first meet Colonel Hogan?"

"Let's see. Oh yes. I was summoned by Sergeant Kinchloe who radioed London asking for a look-alike to impersonate Colonel Hogan who was missing at the time."

"Missing? Why was Colonel Hogan missing?"

"Well. The author known as ColHogan, she had created me to protect the Colonel by having me pose as him so nobody would know he was really missing while his men searched for him. This was to keep the Gestapo from looking for him. The Colonel had been kidnapped by an organization that took the law into their own hands regarding people they suspected of being enemies of the Third Reich."

"So in other words, the author created you to protect the Colonel," asked Mason nonchalantly.

"Oh, I'd say most definitely. You see, had the Colonel simply been missing, the Gestapo, mainly that horrible Major Hochstetter over there, would have done everything he could to find him and once he did, one can only imagine what would have happened to the Colonel. But with me pretending to be him, nobody noticed that Hogan wasn't really there. As far as the Germans were concerned, Colonel Hogan was right where he should be....Stalag 13."

Hochstetter, seated in the back with the author known as Shadowhawk still clinging to his arm, mumbled something under his breath that nobody heard. However, Burkhalter glanced annoyingly at him before turning back to the testimony.

Hogan smiled at Jackman fondly. He was very fond of the RAF lieutenant. After all, the man was responsible for saving his life when things seemed the darkest. He suddenly noticed that ColHogan was laying her head on his shoulder. Hogan motioned with his head to Kinch, Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau. LeBeau rolled his eyes in amusement. Carter failed at trying to hide the amused grin as did Newkirk. And Kinch chuckled silently. Seeing their reactions, Hogan could only roll his eyes before paying attention to the testimony of his look-alike.

"So in other words, lieutenant, would you say you were created to keep the Colonel and his men from permanent damage and harm?"

"Oh most definitely," Jackman replied, crossing his legs. "After all, if I hadn't been created, Major Hochstetter would have had a field day with the Colonel, thereby causing harm and possible permanent damage to him. But I was created for the express purpose of preventing that until the Colonel had recovered from his problems."

"That would be in THE DARK MENACE, wasn't it?" asked Mason, folding his arms.

"I believe that's the title."

"But didn't Major Hochstetter appear in camp anyway?"

"Yes he did. But by that time the Colonel had recovered from his difficulty and was able to handle the Major quite effectively."

"And how did he do that?"

"He had Dr. Praeger hypnotize the Major and convince him to leave Colonel Hogan and his men alone for good. In fact, it was a jolly good show indeed."

Hochstetter was growling again. Despite his fan clinging to him, he added Noel's name to his list.

"So in other words, the author known as ColHogan saw to it that Major Hochstetter would no longer be considered a threat to either the Colonel or his men ever again by removing that threat. Is that what you're telling the court?"

"Definitely," Noel replied.

Mason, smiling, turned and glanced at Commander Riker who had been paying close attention to Jackman's testimony. As Mason sat down Riker got up.

"Lieutenant Jackman, I must admit that I am amazed at the striking resemblance between you and Colonel Hogan as well as your ability to impersonate his voice as well. You are a very talented actor."

Jackman smiled and nodded once. "Thank you, Commander," he replied.

"Now, let's see if I have this straight. You were created for the express purpose of impersonating the Colonel after he'd been kidnapped. Is that correct?"

"It is."

"Do you have any idea what Colonel Hogan went through at the hands of his kidnappers?"

"I believe he was held captive by them and put through a trial and found guilty with a death sentence handed down."

"Did his men have any idea where he was?"

"No they didn't. Not that they didn't search for him, mind you. But they ran into one dead end after another. It had gotten to the point where they came very close to believing they would never see the Colonel again."

"Wouldn't you call that extreme distress, lieutenant?" Riker asked, leaning against the table with his arms folded, facing the witness. "I mean these four men didn't know where their commanding officer was, much less whether he was even alive or dead. Now I don't know about you, but I would call that extreme distress."

Jackman sighed wearily. He hated agreeing with the prosecutor. "I suppose you could say it was extreme distress. But...."

Riker interrupted before Jackman could finish. "Wouldn't you agree...."

Mason jumped to his feet. "Objection, your Honor. Commander Riker didn't give the lieutenant a chance to finish what he saying before he interrupted him. And I, for one, would like to hear what the lieutenant has to say."

"Objection sustained," Harry replied, still playing with his slinky. He looked at Jackman. "You may finish what you were about to say when you were interrupted, lieutenant."

"Thank you, your Honor," Jackman replied calmly. He then looked at Riker. "What I was going to say, Commander, is that while I'm quite sure Colonel Hogan's men were distressed over his disappearance and at not being able to find him, the author made accommodations for that possibility."

"And how did she do that?" asked Riker.

"She made sure whenever the men got down and distressed, she had Sergeant Carter boost them back up again. She made sure Carter never let his friends got so down they were permanently harmed or damaged by what was happening. And thanks to Sergeant Carter, Hogan's men were able to not only keep from giving in to their distress, but he gave them hope and encouragement. In other words, Commander, I believe the author gave Carter the courage to speak his mind and make sure his friends had the courage to continue with their search no matter how discouraging it got."

Hogan, Kinch, Newkirk and LeBeau all looked at Carter and smiled. The young sergeant just shrugged his shoulders. LeBeau nudged him. "You did good, mon ami," he whispered.

"You kept us going with what you said, Andrew," Newkirk whispered. "Nice going, mate."

"You did real good at keeping us going, Andrew," Kinch replied. "No matter how bad things looked, you kept us going."

"Carter?" Hogan said.

Carter looked in his Colonel's direction. "Sir?"

"Thank you, Carter. I really mean that."

"Gosh. You're welcome boy. I mean Colonel."

Harry pounded his gavel as his slinky got away from him and slid across the top of the bench. The men quieted down and paid attention to the testimony. Hogan leaned forward with ColHogan still clinging to his arm with her head still on his shoulder.

"And just how did the Colonel's men react to Sergeant Carter's words of encouragement?" asked Riker.

"They bounced back immediately and continued the search until they found him."

"And where was he found, lieutenant?"

"The Colonel was buried alive in a cemetery."

The gasps were heard from the spectators again. Hogan shivered at recalling the incident.

"Would you call that extreme distress?" asked Riker with a raised eyebrow.

"I would," Jackman admitted.

"In what condition was he in when he was rescued?"

"He was barely conscious. At one point his heart stopped. Sergeant Wilson was with us and chest compression was started and we got him breathing again."

"But in reality, lieutenant, Colonel Hogan could have died, couldn't he?"

"I sincerely doubt it, Commander."

Riker was stunned momentarily. He glanced around the courtroom before again looking at Jackman.

Even Harry was stunned. "You sincerely doubt it, lieutenant?" he asked as well.

Jackman looked up at the judge. "That's what I said, your Honor."

"On what do you base that statement on, lieutenant?" asked Riker.

"Well, I've been following the author's other stories since I was first introduced. And while she does put Hogan and his men through quite a lot, she has never killed any of them. In fact, from what I've seen, there are a few authors who do the same thing. They do not kill the Colonel or any of his men who are core characters."

Riker sighed. Jackman's last answer threw him. He had heard that ColHogan had two new stories going at the same time and figured he'd better check them out right away.

"I'm finished with this witness, your Honor," he said, sitting down.

"You may step down, Lieutenant Jackman," said Harry, playing with his slinky again. "You can either stay and watch the rest of the trial or you can leave."

Jackman shrugged. "I think I'll stick around and see what happens. Could be bloody interesting."


	5. Wilson recalled to the stand

Sergeant Wilson is recalled, submitted by ColHogan

* * * * * *

Court had resumed after lunch and the spectators were beginning to file back into the court room for the resumption of the trial. Colonel Hogan and his posse walked in and took their seats, Hogan sitting beside the author known as ColHogan again, seeming not to mind. She again put her arms through one of his, but this time also clutched his hand. Hogan looked down at this unknown woman clutching his hand and shook his head, amused. He figured by holding his hand at least her hands were not on her laptop, so where was the harm?

ColHogan glanced over her shoulder and noticed Major Hochstetter seated in the back on the opposite side of the room with ShadowHawk at his side, her arms entwined through his arm. Biting her lip as if trying to come to a decision, ColHogan thought about what she had overheard between Hochstetter and ShadowHawk after her testimony. She mulled over whether she should divulge what she had heard. She decided she had to. Glancing around again to be sure nobody was paying attention; she noticed the judge hadn't yet appeared. She casually leaned sideways towards Hogan.

"I have to tell you something," she whispered. "But not here. When there's a break. It's important."

Hogan's eyes narrowed as he looked at her and was about to reply when a side door opened and Bull entered.

"All rise. Court is now in session. The Honorable Harold T. Stone presiding."

As if on cue, Harry bounded through the open door and approached the bench where he sat down, banged his gavel, and announced to everyone to be seated. Harry immediately slipped the egg containing playdough he had in his robe out and put it in front of him.

"Call your next witness, Mr. Mason," he ordered, opening the egg.

Mason stood up. "Your Honor, I would like to recall Sergeant Wilson."

There were murmurs in the room as Sergeant Wilson got up and approached the witness stand. After being sworn in he sat down. His eyes focused on his commanding officer.

"Sergeant Wilson, you heard the previous testimony of Lt. Jackman, did you not?"

Wilson's eyes immediately switched to Mason. Hogan leaned forward to pay close attention, his mind still wondering what the woman clinging to him had to tell him that was so important. But for now, that would have to wait.

"Yes, sir, I did."

"Now, we understand that you were present when Colonel Hogan was rescued after being buried alive. In you medical opinion, what was his condition?"

"Colonel Hogan was suffering from a lack of oxygen and was having trouble breathing. At one point his heart stopped."

"And what did you do then?"

"I immediately began chest compressions. And since the Colonel's men were with me, I had Corporal LeBeau do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. After about the second or third time it was done, the Colonel started breathing on his own."

"Would you say this was an extremely stressful time for the Colonel and his men?"

Wilson sighed and glanced at Hogan. "I would have to say yes. It was for everyone involved."

"Sergeant Wilson, would you say the author intentionally caused this extreme distress for Colonel Hogan and his men?"

"Objection!" shouted Commander Riker. "The witness wouldn't know what the author had in mind at the time she wrote the story."

"Objection sustained," Harry replied, flattening the playdough into the shape of a pancake.

"I'll rephrase the question," said Mason. "In your opinion, sergeant, do you think the author intended to cause this extreme distress for the Colonel and his men?"

"In my opinion...." began Wilson slowly. "I would have to say that while I don't believe it was done purposely to cause angst with the Colonel and his men, it was necessary for the purpose of the story as it was unfolding at the time."

Mason found himself smiling. Things were going well with this witness so far. "Let's move on a bit, sergeant. Now, we were told that after his experience of being buried alive, the Colonel had developed PTSD or shell shock."

"He did. He started having nightmares about being buried alive and of the people who buried him. He kept seeing their faces. He was afraid of everything and everybody."

The Colonel, recalling the incident again, subconsciously found himself squeezing the hand of the author who had written the story.

"Who's idea was it to bring in Doctor Praeger?"

"It was Lt. Jackman's idea. But the idea was given to him by the author."

"So in other words, sergeant, the author made certain Colonel Hogan got the help necessary to cure him, as what the Colonel was going through was beyond your capabilities."

"Absolutely."

"So would you say that this particular author made certain Colonel Hogan did not suffer any permanent harm or permanent damage or die as a result of his experience of being buried alive?"

"I'd have to say yes. Having followed the remainder of the story, I'd have to say the author did her research on PTSD, CPR, and how long the Colonel could remain buried alive and still survive after being rescued."

"Thank you, sergeant." Mason glanced at Riker. "Your witness, Commander."

Riker got to his feet. "Sergeant Wilson, let's backtrack a bit. You said at the time Colonel Hogan was rescued after his ordeal, his heart had stopped and mouth-to-mouth and CPR had to be performed. You recall saying that?"

"I do."

"And after awhile the Colonel began breathing on his own. Is that correct?"

"It is."

"But wouldn't you have to agree, sergeant, that Colonel Hogan could just have easily died despite the best attempts to save him, thereby causing him and his men permanent damage, harm and extreme distress?"

"To answer your question, Commander, Colonel Hogan would not have died. Therefore, there would have been no harm or permanent damage done to any of them. The only thing I agree with is that the situation of being buried alive was stressful for the Colonel because of a childhood trauma involving the same thing happening."

"And why do you say the Colonel would not have died?" asked Riker, feeling he was not getting from this witness what he had hoped to get.

"Because I've been involved in several of the author's stories, and she never puts the Colonel or his men through more than they can handle without giving them a way to either escape, win, or survive. She's never killed any of them."

Newkirk looked at Hogan. "That's true, Gov'nor. She's never killed any of us."

"Oui, mon Colonel," added LeBeau. "She's even put me in charge in her latest posting." LeBeau sounded proud of being temporarily in charge.

"Don't forget about me," Carter whispered. "She's got me helping you, Louie."

"Oui, mon ami. I did not forget."

Kinch smiled slightly. "Whenever I'm in charge I always manage to make the right choices. Even when I'm overwhelmed like when the Colonel was in a coma after being shot by Freitag."

Hogan didn't respond. He was thinking that what he was hearing was true to some degree. Despite the author causing him and his men major angst, especially him, she made sure he and his men always survived and found a way out. And didn't suffer any major damage by Hochstetter. Maybe this was one of the authors whose stories he could accept. Still.....

Harry banged his gavel and asked for silence in the court, looking at Hogan's men. In the back of the court Hochstetter smirked. Someone other than him was being chastised by the judge for a change.

"No more questions of this witness, your Honor," Riker announced.

Harry, who had been rolling his playdough into a ball, looked at Wilson. "You may step down, Sergeant Wilson and can either remain in the court or leave."

As Wilson left the witness stand and returned to his seat, Harry checked his watch.

"I think we'll take a five-minute recess before resuming with the testimony." He stood up and banged his gavel.

As the judge and Bull left the courtroom and the spectators either milled around or went into the hallway, Hogan looked at the author clinging to his arm, as did his posse.

"We'll have to make this quick. You said you had something important to tell me. What is it?"

ColHogan looked into the Colonel's face. Those brown eyes. They could make a person melt.

"When I was sitting in the back of the court I heard ShadowHawk testify and then she sat beside Major Hochstetter. I overheard her tell him she was going to write a story where he gets to wreak his ultimate revenge on you and your men."

"Are you sure?" asked Kinch who was seated opposite Hogan.

"Positive. I even saw them together during lunch. They didn't see me. But I heard her tell Hochstetter something about him killing the Colonel and everyone else."

Hogan pursed his lips. Seeing nobody was paying them any attention, including Hochstetter and ShadowHawk or the attorneys, Hogan leaned over and gave ColHogan a quick peck on the cheek. He smiled. "Thanks for the heads-up," he said. He then looked at his men. "Guys, after court when we get back to camp, we gotta prepare ourselves and hopefully be ready for whatever ShadowHawk has in mind."


	6. Klink recalled to the stand

Colonel Klink is recalled, submitted by ColHogan

* * * * * *

After the five minute recess, court resumed. Harry was seated back at the bench with his playdough. Bull stood at his usual post.

"Mr. Mason, call your next witness," Harry said, stretching the playdough to see how far it would stretch.

Mason stood. "Your Honor, I wish to recall Colonel Wilhelm Klink to the stand."

Hogan, with ColHogan still clinging to his arm and holding his hand, his men and several others in the gallery all turned and looked as Klink nervously stood up. Klink saw the glare from Major Hochstetter and the look from General Burkhalter and swallowed the lump in his throat. He slowly made his way down the aisle to the witness box where he sat down after being sworn in.

He nervously looked at Mason as he approached the witness stand, wondering all the time why he was being recalled. What could he possibly have to be asked that he hadn't already been asked?

"Colonel Klink, relax. Nobody's going to hurt you. We just have some additional questions to ask you."

Klink nodded._ Nobody wants to hurt me?_ He told himself. _You haven't seen the looks I'm getting from the general and the major._

"Colonel Klink, I'd like to ask you about your actions in a story by ColHogan called MY BROTHER, MY TRAITOR. Do you remember the story?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now correct me if I'm wrong, but in that story you had to endure the visit of an SS Major named Von Strasser. Correct?"

Klink recalled the unpleasant Major and his visit. "Yes, sir. He was a very unpleasant man."

"I also understand he threatened your Senior POW officer along with one of your men, a Sergeant Randall. Is that correct?"

"That is correct, yes."

"Would you explain to the court how he threatened Colonel Hogan?"

"Well, Major Von Strasser had a fondness for straight razors. When he was interrogating Sgt. Randall one time, he threatened to slice Colonel Hogan's face every time Sgt. Randall either didn't answer a question or gave him the wrong answer."

"And why would he do that?"

"Because he wanted Sgt. Randall to be responsible for how much pain Colonel Hogan suffered."

"Did he cut Colonel Hogan at all during this interrogation?" asked Mason, folding his arms and blocking Klink's view of Burkhalter and Hochstetter.

"He didn't have a chance. Corporal Newkirk burst into my office and announced that there was a disturbance in barracks two that required Colonel Hogan's immediate attention."

"And what did Major Von Strasser do?"

"He reluctantly allowed Hogan and Sgt. Randall to both leave."

"So, in your opinion, Kommandant, would you say the author kept Colonel Hogan from being injured at that point?"

"I'd have to say yes, she did."

"All right, Kommandant, let's move on a bit. Now didn't there come a time when Major Von Strasser took Colonel Hogan hostage with the intent to torture and kill him?"

"I believe that was his intent. You see, he didn't like Colonel Hogan at all. I guess he was angry because he couldn't intimidate Hogan."

"Objection!!!!" Riker cried out, jumping up. "The witness has no way of knowing how the late Major felt."

Harry was now rolling the playdough into a ball. "Overruled, Commander. I believe the witness having been around the deceased would know exactly how he felt."

Riker, discouraged at having his objection overruled, sat down.

"Thank you, your Honor," Mason replied. "Kommandant, should I repeat the question for you?"

"No. I remember it. I know Von Strasser despised Colonel Hogan. You see, Hogan is the type of man who is not intimidated by authority figures he doesn't like. And he didn't like the Major. Also, I've never seen Hogan get intimidated by anybody."

"When the Major took Colonel Hogan hostage, where did he take him? Was it outside the prison camp?"

"No. He took him to an empty barracks within Stalag 13. At the same time he had a guard watching barracks two to keep any of Hogan's men from helping him."

"But yet, they did rescue him didn't they?" Mason asked.

"Yes, sir," Klink replied feeling more courage than he actually felt. His eyes fell on Hogan who was staring directly at him and the writer who had written the story.

"And how did they do that if they were being guarded? I would think that would be risky and somewhat dangerous on their part."

"I believe they had two prisoners create a disturbance to distract the guard while Hogan's men sneaked out and two of them came to my office while the other two tried to find out where Von Strasser had taken Hogan."

"What happened after Colonel Hogan was found, Kommandant?"

"Sergeant Kinchloe and Corporal LeBeau begged me to intervene and help them save Hogan while Corporal Newkirk and Sergeant Carter located where Hogan was being held."

"And what did you do, Kommandant?"

"I shot and killed Major Von Strasser after he had cut Hogan with the straight razor."

There were gasps in the courtroom. Harry pounded his gavel demanding silence. When things quieted down, Mason resumed his questioning.

"Was Colonel Hogan seriously injured?"

"No. The cuts were all superficial according to the camp medical officer, Sergeant Wilson."

"Now, let's move on to WHAT IF? I believe in that story you accompanied Colonel Hogan to the hospital after he'd been shot twice in your office? Is that correct?"

"It is. He would have died without treatment."

"But wasn't it true that Americans, especially POWs are refused treatment for the most part by German hospitals?"

"That is correct. But...."

"But what, Kommandant?"

"I couldn't let Hogan die. The author wouldn't allow it. So I lied to the hospital to make Hogan seem an important man to the Third Reich so he would be admitted and treated."

"So the author gave you courage to do what you did, even though you knew, as a German soldier, you could have just let him die."

"I couldn't do that. I wasn't written that way in this story to simply let Hogan die. I was written to see that he got help."

"So in other words, Kommandant, would you say, in your opinion, that the author made certain Colonel Hogan and his men suffered no permanent damage or extreme distress even though the harm Colonel Hogan suffered was serious."

"I would have to say Hogan suffered no permanent damage nor any extreme distress. Yes, he did get harmed by the shooting. But I believe the author had no intention of letting him die in either story."

"And what makes you say that, Kommandant?"

Klink shrugged. "It's simple. If the author wanted Hogan to die in either story, she wouldn't have allowed him to get the care he needed. Also, I never would have had the courage to shoot the major at the moment I did. Also, one must keep in mind that the story WHAT IF? was an alternate ending to an original episode."

"So what you're saying, Kommandant, is that this author made sure Colonel Hogan, although seriously injured in WHAT IF? by a Gestapo officer, was given excellent medical care and recovered with no permanent damage; and gave you courage you don't normally have to shoot and kill a vicious SS Major who could have tortured and killed him in MY BROTHER, MY TRAITOR. Is that what you're telling this court?"

"I guess I am."

"I have no further questions for this witness." Mason returned to his chair.

Harry looked at Riker. "Commander Riker? Do you wish to question the witness?" Harry was busy making animal figures out of his playdough.

Commander Riker sighed, exasperated. "I have no questions for this witness, your Honor."

Judge Stone looked at Mason as Colonel Klink left the witness stand. "Care to call your next witness, Mr. Mason?"

"Your Honor, considering the lateness of the hour, I would like to call my next witness after lunch."

"Sounds good to me, counselor." Harry smashed all his playdough figures together into a ball. "We will resume after lunch." He banged his gavel and left the bench with Bull behind him.

As those in the gallery on both sides started to get up and leave the courtroom, Hogan looked at the author who let go of his arm and hand. "Would you like to join us for lunch?" he asked. "I figure it's the least I can do, considering the info you gave us."

ColHogan smiled at Hogan and accepted the offer. "But it could jeopardize the case for both sides if we're seen with each other," she said.

Hogan smirked. "The men and I know a place where none of the others go to for lunch, and that includes the attorneys."

"Then I accept your offer."

Hogan and his men got to their feet. "Fine. Fellas, ColHogan, let's blow this joint and grab some chow. I'm starved."


	7. The View from the Gallery, by Mistress V

The View from the Gallery, submitted by Mistress V

* * * * * *

The courtroom gallery was filled to capacity. Front row center was dominated, rather testily, by a pair of females at opposite ends of the age range.

One, barely a teenager, was scribbling furiously on a yellow pad, pausing only to wipe away a tear whenever Hogan's name was mentioned. She was dressed like something out of a WW2 era bad spy film---oversized putty colored trenchcoat, a moth eaten beret perched on an elaborate, raven-hued chignon. The girl's enormous topaz eyes shimmered in the recessed lighting.

The other was a Rubenesque, well past middle-aged woman with short, mousy dark hair, 50's librarian-styled glasses (complete with neck chain) and stout Birkenstock sandals over white crew socks. Her eyes followed Wil Riker constantly, even when he sat at counsel's table. Wheezy, asthmatic sounding sighs escaped her chapped lips at regular intervals. She wore a button on her faded sweatshirt that read "SlashGurl".

Word of the trial had spread throughout the courthouse and a long line of would be spectators filled the hall outside. As observers came and went (usually attorneys, on break from another, more boring proceeding elsewhere), the guards let in new viewers when there was a break in the action below.

So it was that a pair of oddly attired males made their way down the aisle, rather awkwardly, and stuffed themselves into the second row. One was obviously a skateboard bum, from his tattered Vans slip ons to his scratched Ray Ban sunglasses. But the other was a bit of an anomaly. He didn't quite seem at home in his tennis gear, and he'd obviously been a recent victim of some kind of hepatitis, given the sickly pallor of his skin tone. His eyes were obscured by equally dark Ray Bans, which must have been giving him issues. He tripped over his own feet and slid an elbow into Miss Marple, who jumped with a loudly whispered "I SAY!"

"Hey!" hissed her companion, tapping a riding-booted foot in annoyance. "Watch where you throw those things, will ya?"

"I'm terribly sorry," the offender began in a regular voice.

The guard emitted a loud "SHHHHHHHH!" and everyone turned to see who was being such a moron as to talk out of turn during the trial.

Things calmed down once more, for about ten seconds.

"Why are we here?" the liver-challenged one whispered loudly.

"SHH. You know the capt--er, JL, wants us to see what's going on." The younger male slid down further in his seat, intent on watching the cross-examination.

"Who is the other attorney?"

"Perry Mason. Shh."

"Perry Mason? That is not possible. Perry Mason is a fictional character, played by the late Raymond Burr in a 20th century television series. In fact, the persona was first created by---"

"HEY!" A louder, much more venomous whisper, from the mahogany-haired, amazonesque woman seated just down from the pair. She addressed the skate bum in a well-practiced teacher's voice, her emerald eyes ablaze. "Keep that positron brain on a shorter leash or we'll all end up being thrown out. This is supposed to be a closed hearing, anyway."

"How did she know about my positronic brain?" the offender asked, confused.

His associate shrugged.

"SHHHHHH!" the guard repeated, obviously growing annoyed with the whole group.

"I say, things are quite scintillating up here," the woman's older companion mused, peering curiously at the newcomers. "I gather they allow all sorts of ne'er do wells in the gallery these days. Makes a rather refreshing change, if you ask me."

"Is she referring to us?" the whisperer persisted, lifting up his sunglasses to reveal eyes even more topaz than the young woman in the front row. He addressed the older matron. "I'll have you know, madame, we are not riff raff, but serving officers in the---"

"I said QUIET!" The guard now was standing over the two, hands on his hips. "One more peep out of you and I clear the whole gallery. Zat clear?"

"Clear," mumbled the adolescent. His face flushed deep red in embarrassment.

Everyone's attention returned to the action below.

For another minute.

The pasty faced one had been fiddling with a fancy looking I-Phone the last few moments, his expression one of surprise. He spoke to the younger man next to him once more.

"A good number of the witnesses below are deceased. That makes no sense. And almost the whole group are actors, being called as the characters they once portrayed. How could such a trial---"

"SHADDUP, or I'll hit your offswitch!" A well placed kick from an expensive ridng boot made contact with a nearby knee, but the sound that echoed through the row was rather strangely metallic.

Riker looked up at the gallery, puzzled. His expression changed to one of surprised annoyance when he saw who was seated up there.

"Now you've done it, Data!" The skate bum jumped to his feet. "C'mon, this was supposed to be done undercover. We'd better get out of here."

"But----"

As the guard opened the door to let out the rabble rousers, an older man sneaked in, a tired expression on his face.

"Make way for the D.A.!" the guard said in a theatrical whisper.

"Sam Waterston!" Data gasped. "Can we not stay, Ensign Crusher?"

Wes the Invincible paused, thinking. "I promise, he'll behave," he finally told the guard. "Can we stay on a few more minutes? We're due back on board soon, anyway."

"All right." The guard looked the pair up and down, trying to figure out where he'd last seen them. "But you'd better make good on that promise!"

The duo tiptoed back to their seats, only to find them taken by the new arrival, his oilcoth Barbour jacket and his rather large briefcase.

"Excuse us, Mr. McCoy," Crusher began.


	8. Jennaya's Testimony

Jennaya's Testimony

"Ms. Jennaya," the nurse called the next patient's name. He wasn't the nurse she'd seen the last time she was at the orthopedics doctor's office. Grabbing her crutches, Jennaya slowly made her way to the door, the nurse seemed familiar, but she couldn't place from where. He led her down the hall to a room smiling as he opened the door. When she walked into the room it wasn't an exam room, but a courtroom instead. Jennaya looked at the nurse finally recognizing him as Sergeant Wilson, the medic from Stalag 13. "It's your turn to stand trial, Ms. Jennaya," he smiled strangely and pointed to the witness chair.

"Oh, I thought I wouldn't be called," she mumbled making her way down the stand. Wilson helped her sit down and placed her crutches out of the way. Jennaya wasn't sure if Wilson was just being helpful, or making sure she didn't make a run for the door, still not sure how she ended up here.

"Ms. Jennaya," Mason the defense attorney started, "I understand that you're relatively new to Hogan's Heroes, can you tell us how you came to write in this fandom?"

"Like many of the other writers, I write for a few different fandoms, but Hogan's Heroes is one of my favorite shows. So after reading a lot of the stories out there, I wanted to try my hand at writing for the boys of barracks two."

"Your stories are considered mild compared to a few of the authors, can you tell us about your first story, Burkhalter's Musings?" Mason asked with a slight smile on his face. Burkhalter sat up listening closer, what was going to be said about him?

"Yes, it's all about General Burkhalter and what he was thinking during the episode, _Don't Forget to Write_. Since the General wants England to win the war, and he knows about Hogan's operation, he sends things through Stalag 13 that he believes the Allies should know about or stop," Jennaya answered. Gasps could be heard around the courtroom, and Burkhalter looked like he was going to crawl under the bench.

"I want this man arrested now!" Hochstetter yelled with his face turning red.

"Colonel, did you know that about Burkhalter?" Kinch asked Hogan worriedly.

"No, I didn't, but it makes sense if you think about it. When we get back to camp, I want to talk to the General," Hogan answered watching the Germans across the aisle.

Judge Harry banged his gavel, "Major Hochstetter, if you interrupt this court one more time. I'm going to have you gagged and tied to your seat. Now, no one is going to be arrested in MY court unless I authorize it, and you're pushing it mister." Hochstetter sat down glaring at both the General and the Judge. He took out his notepad adding both to his list.

Carter was studying the witness and then suddenly scribbled down a note and sent it towards the front for Commander Riker. It was passed from person to person until reaching its intended recipient.

"You've given the readers a look into the lives of the other people in the prison camp that work for Hogan, helped Hogan find his daughter, and permitted him to see his grandfather. You also introduced us to Hogan's brother, allowing them to start mending an old rift, even though you never explained to the readers what the argument was about. Isn't that correct?" Mason asked her.

"Yes it is. In the last story you mentioned, I wanted to show how family can push our buttons in ways that outsiders could never do. What the fight was about was immaterial to the story. The fact that family has a way to get to us and push us beyond our normal ability to cope was the story," Jennaya answered wishing this would just be over; she was nervous about the cross-examination.

"Isn't it true that you also allowed Hogan to have a second chance to change what he considered the worst mistake he made in his life?" Mason questioned driving home the point. Hogan looked at Kinch, that was one of the more difficult assignments from London and took a major toll on his team.

"Yes, I did. I allowed a friend of his to travel back in time helping Hogan to complete an important job and save a friend's life. The second time around no one died on that mission. It was the longest and most detailed story I've ever written and crossed two fandoms," she answered uncomfortable at being the center of attention in the room.

"You know Gov'nor, this writer might not be so bad after all," Newkirk leaned forward whispering in Hogan's ear.

"Let's reserve judgment until we hear all the facts," Hogan replied never taking his eyes off the witness.

"You've also given the plaintiffs a contact within the Hammelburg Gestapo, for safety's sake, we're not going to disclose his identity. But from what I understand he has destroyed information, thrown the Gestapo off of the trail of the heroes, and warned them of traps being set to capture them. Is that correct?" Mason asked.

"Yes, he's a good friend of Hogan's and determined to see Hitler defeated," Jennaya answered proudly. Hochstetter looked over at his second in command, Captain Fritz Fuchs, who shook his head no, indicating he didn't have a clue who the spy could be. Bluebird turned back around letting out a small sigh of relief that Mason hadn't exposed him.

"Would you say that you've also developed a soft spot for Major Hochstetter by giving him a family, history, a lover, and children?" Mason asked cringing at the groans coming from the Allies. Hochstetter sat up listening intently thinking about his Lisal. What children was the lawyer talking about?

"I'm not sure a soft spot is an accurate description, I want to explore the other cannon characters and see what makes them who they are," the witness responded.

"That seems fair to me," Mason replied, "I have no further questions for this witness."

"Commander Riker, you're up next," the judge announced.

Standing up and smiling like the cat with a mouse, Riker walked over to the witness. "Ms. Jennaya, Mr. Mason has painted a pretty picture, but he has left some facts out. Let's discuss those shall we?" The witness shook her head wondering what he was going to ask. "Although you have written a couple of what might seem to be nice stories, the others weren't so kind to the plaintiffs, now were they? In the story that Colonel Hogan saw his grandfather it was because he was hovering between life and death, after being gravely injured on a mission. Isn't that correct?"

"Yes," she answered quietly.

"You're going to need to speak up, ma'am," Harry told her.

"Yes, it was, but…."

"And in the story that Hogan rescued his daughter, Major Hochstetter had kidnapped the infant and he tortured Hogan, that doesn't present such a nice picture now does it," Riker asked sharply cutting her off before she could explain.

"It wasn't that bad and Hogan's men found him and rescued the colonel. I don't write nasty torture scenes!" She defended herself just as strongly as Riker's accusations.

"Oh, so you admit that you have caused harm to my clients," Riker smiled winning one for his side.

"I always make sure that everyone receives the best medical care, and no one is left hurt physically or emotionally at the end of my stories," he wasn't going to get the best of her.

"So you think when the team witnessed Kinch die in front of them that they didn't suffer any psychological harm? How about when the team found Carter lying in a ditch wounded? Or when Hogan's brain was turned to mush, did it not affect the others? What about when Hogan's family found out their first grandchild was being held hostage by a rogue Gestapo officer; do you think that caused no harm?" Riker demanded looking directly into the witness's eyes. "Your stories have been just as much detrimental as anyone else's stories."

"Well, I always put the characters back in the same condition that I received them in. Not everyone does and that explains the reason they don't always look so good," she answered wishing she could just get out of there. Everyone looked back at Hogan and his men, Kinch was laying on the floor passed out, Hogan was barely able to sit, LeBeau was crying, Newkirk was wiping a cloth across Hogan's forehead. Carter's glare could kill. Wilson was trying to bring Kinch around.

"Sergeant Wilson, do we need to take a recess? Do you need assistance?" Judge Stone asked concerned about the heroes.

"No sir, I think they'll be all right in a moment," Wilson replied as Kinch became conscious. As he continued his ministrations both Kinch and Hogan began to look better.

"You can continue Commander," Harry declared.

"It's not just the Allies you mess with. It seems you've turned your attention to Major Hochstetter also. I have it on good authority that on your hard drive you have an unfinished story where you killed the major. And without divulging classified material, currently two highly valued Allied assets have committed treason in order to protect the major. What do you have to say for yourself?" Riker demanded.

Burkhalter angrily asked Hochstetter why any Allied personnel would be out to save him? He vehemently denied any knowledge of what the Commander was talking about. He would get to the bottom of it when he had Hogan back in camp. Klink shuddered worrying what was going to happen to all of them once this trial was over.

"I…I…I have always protected the Allies and always will. My stories have complex plot arcs and taking items out of context is not right. You have to look at the entire story once it's complete," Jennaya answered trying not to wilt under the Commander's stare. Her leg was hurting and she wanted out of there. Why did she leave the good pain drugs at home today?

"And since the hearing ended, you killed Carter's pet bird. What could you have possibly had against an innocent bird!" Riker went for the final strike against this writer.

"I needed a distraction for Hogan to gather intelligence," Jennaya answered with sorrow for hurting Carter.

"I have no further questions for this witness at this time," Commander Riker said sitting down confident in his cross-exam.

"Mr. Mason, do you want to readdress?" The judge asked.

"No your honor, but I do reserve the right to recall the witness," the defense attorney replied. Judge Stone released Jennaya and she made her way out of the courtroom as quickly as she could on crutches. When she stepped through the door, she found herself back in the doctor's waiting room.


	9. Robin Takes the Stand

Robin Takes the Stand

I snorted back a laugh as I read the review, 'When life sucks … Kill Hochstetter!' I'm relieved that the readers have gotten into the spirit of our stories. That's when I saw it, the registered letter my daughter had apparently signed for and left on my desk. "When did that show up?" I wondered aloud as I silently cursed the priorities of teenagers. I opened it, read it, read it again, then immediately telephoned Kathy.

"We've been subpoenaed!" I shouted at her instead of hello.

"Why? For what?" she replied. "You haven't killed or tortured anyone. Well, Ryan was tortured but he's your OC."

"Kath, I didn't say _I've been subpoenaed_," I interrupted her. "I said _WE'VE been subpoenaed_. This has to be about 'Killing Wolfie'," I continued using the draft name for our story.

There was silence for a moment. "Then we're frakked," she stated. "I have to …"

I was trying to hear Kathy but a low pitched whine, one of those sounds you more feel than hear, grabbed me on the back of my neck. My ears and vision fuzzed as I tried to contend with the feeling of millions of ants crawling up and down my spine. The buzz dissipated.

I found myself sitting in a witness box looking out at a packed gallery. I recognized the Judge and Bailiff from Night Court, one lawyer as Commander Will Riker from ST:TNG but the other lawyer confuses me. Why is Detective Robert Ironside STANDING at the defense table? Ironside isn't a lawyer and he should be in a wheelchair.

As the faux Ironside walked toward me, I took a moment to scan the room. Most of the faces were unfamiliar except for the cast of Hogan's Heroes. They sat like a bridal party; bride's side to the left, groom's to the right; only it was Allies and Germans. A young teen was glued to Hochstetter's side. If she got any closer he could have her arrested for sexual molestation. The killing glare she sent me shocked me into realizing where I was, Fanfiction Court.

I stood up and confronted the prosecuting attorney. "PetaQ!" I screamed the most heinous Klingon curse I could at him. "You kidnapped me! You've used advanced technology on a primitive planet not to mention how many Temporal Directives you've smashed!"

The room erupted in noise. Riker, red-faced, began to defend himself while everyone else seemed to have a comment to make. Judge Stone's gavel began pounding loudly beside me.

"Order in the Court! Silence in the gallery!" he ordered. The judge turned to address me, "Miss Margolin,"

"Mrs. Margolin truthfully but I prefer Ms." I replied.

"Ms. Margolin, please refrain from attacking the prosecutor."

I attempted to look contrite as I responded to his admonishment, "I am sorry, your honor, but travel via transporter is unnerving."

'Ironside' approached me and smiled. "Ms. Margolin, I have a few questions for you. I'll be as brief and painless as possible, alright?"

"OK, and you are?"

He sighed. "My name is Perry Mason. I am the counsel for the defense, the authors and as you are a member of that group, your counsel."

"Oh, OK." I vaguely remember that Raymond Burr had another show before Ironside. Whatever.

"Ms. Margolin, you're fairly new to writing fanfiction, is that right?"

"G-d no, I've been writing the stuff for years. Most of my stuff isn't on FFN because it's X rated." I cast my eyes on Riker as I say this. "Mostly I write science fiction; Quantum Leap, Seven Days, Trek." I aim the last one specifically at the prosecutor. He stares back at me and smiles.

"Humph," Mason cleared his throat to get my attention. "You are new to writing Hogan's Heroes, though?"

"Yes, it's been less that a year. I was going crazy with the preparations for my son's Bar Mitzvah so my friend sent me the links to a few stories she thought could get my mind off the chaos."

"And it worked?" Mason prodded.

"OBJECTION! Leading the witness," Riker called out.

"Sustained" the judge decided. "Mr. Mason, you know better than that."

Mason didn't reply to the judge but reset his sights on me. "Did the tactic work?"

"Yes, the Bar Mitzvah was a total success."

"Tell me, why did you start writing this genre?"

"I had read a wonderful story called The Things I Do For My Country. In this story, Colonel Hogan is forced into a date with Gertrude Linkmeyer. One part just didn't sit right with me so I asked the author's permission and added a few paragraphs."

"How was it received?"

"Nicely for a first story, well it's not much more than a drabble. I made my point and got out." I look out over the gallery, "Gringo, if you're here, thank you for all your support."

BANG! The gavel came down. "Ms. Margolin, do not address the gallery," the judge said.

I just nodded at the judge as my lawyer was talking to me again. "Ms. Margolin?"

"Please just call me Robin," I requested.

Mason smiled at me. "Robin, what did you write next?"

"Well I posted that first, but I was working on a longer piece that wasn't ready to see the light of day. My friend and I were discussing how the show was very one dimensional, after all, it was the late 1960's when it was on. We wondered how the camp would react to a Jewish POW in the population. Would he be treated any differently? So I was writing that."

"She's the reason I got shot down?" came a voice from the back of the gallery. A beautiful blond boy of about 20 was standing, staring at me. Colonel Hogan turned to face him.

"Sit down, Boychik," a British flyer next to him warned. Ryan sat between the RAF flyer and an older woman. She smiled encouragingly at me. When she caught my eye she mouthed, Danke. I returned her smile.

"How many people have you killed in this story?" Mason asked me.

"No one has been killed in this story. No one of consequence, I mean. I've mentioned characters who are dead but I didn't kill them. I don't do death well. It's not my forte."

Realizing this was a great ending statement, Mason turned to Judge Harry. "Nothing further, your honor."

Harry Stone motioned to Riker. "Your witness," he offered me up like a prime rib.

William Riker strode towards me like a shark on the prowl. He's way more intimidating life size and three feet away than he is on TV. I was intimidated.

Riker asked a question of the judge first, "If I may be allowed an indulgence, your honor? I have regards for the witness from a shipmate."

"You may."

Riker leaned close to the witness box. "Robin, Beverly says 'thank you for her lesson'.

I released the breath I didn't know I'd been holding and nodded. The prosecutor turned and faced the gallery as he asked his first question of me.

"What do you have against Major Hochstetter?"

"Other than the fact that he's a Nazi pig, nothing." A smattering of chuckles came from the gallery. When they died down I continued, "He barely appears in my story, for the most part I've been working with Captain Fuchs as my Gestapo officer."

Riker turned and shouted at me, "Why did you kill Major Hochstetter TWENTY times?"

I gulped. I knew it was coming sooner or later. I took a deep calming breath. It didn't help so I took a second one. I looked out in the gallery for Kathy. Nope, no Kathy. Damn!

"Your honor, please direct the witness to answer," Riker complained to the judge.

"I … I refuse to answer questions about that story until my co-author is present," I managed to stammer out. A gasp went through the gallery.

"All right Robin lets revisit your other story." Riker conceded too quickly, it made me nervous. "Your depiction of his torture at the hands of the Gestapo is quite chilling."

"Thank you" I smiled at the compliment.

"Tell the court your motivation for torturing this sweet young man?" He motioned for Ryan to stand.

"I needed a dramatic, impact full way to make his religion a major focus."

Riker motioned for Ryan to sit down. "A religion you share" Riker interrupted.

"Objection," Mason interrupted. "Asks for testimony already in evidence".

"Already in evidence?" Harry questioned Mason.

Mason asked the stenographer, "Read the answer to when the witness began to write Hogan's Heroes.

Bits & Pieces reviewed the record & quoted: "I was going crazy with the preparations for my son's Bar Mitzvah so my friend…"

"Her son's Bar Mitzvah, it's obvious the witness is Jewish." Mason concluded with flair.

"Objection sustained. Go on Riker."

"You needed to torture him to make his religion a focus of your story?" he asked with distain.

"I needed it to show a distinction between the Jews and the non-Jews in camp, and to establish behavior patterns that separated the Germans from the Nazis."

A murmur spread through the court. I noted that Klink whispered to Burkhalter, "She has a point." The General's immediate response was "Shut up, Klink."

"Continue, Ms. Margolin," the Judge instructed.

"I have incorporated a large number of the townspeople in my story. I've tried to show the impact of the war on the average citizen. Ryan embodies the family torn apart by war, politics and religion.

There was silence in the courtroom. 'Frak, how did I get so preachy' I thought.

Riker returned to his desk and consulted his notes. "Lets move on to another subject," he said. "Have you read many of the Hogan's Heroes stories on this site?"

"Yes, I think I've read or skimmed almost everything."

Reading from his notes he began to list stories. "Lungs? Cigarette Kisses? Strange Bedfellows? A Hollow Prison?" I nodded or responded yes to each title. Riker continued to talk, "Each of these fall into the category of slash fiction. A genre you know well, Ms Margolin."

"Yes, most of my Trek stories are slash. I appreciate the slash on this site, but haven't written any."

"What is it you appreciate about it?"

"In some, the sex is very hot." A giggle went through the courtroom. "In some it's funny and inadvertent, but in most the emphasis is on emotion not sex."

"Strange Bedfellows?" Riker questioned.

"That one is just hilarious. It only works in the situation and it's so true to the characters." Carter stole a glance at Newkirk and quickly looked away.

"Lungs and Dance?"

"Both are small snippets of the beginning of a relationship that's foreign to these men."

"What about Cigarette Kisses?" Riker asked. Newkirk looked uncomfortable at the attention.

"Again, these are foreign concepts for most of these characters. The mid 20th century wasn't a good time to be gay. For the most part homosexuality isn't within the canon characters. That's what I like so much about "The Bet."

Bits and Pieces looked at me from her stenography duties. I wasn't sure if she appreciated being pulled in to my testimony.

"What do you like about The Bet?" Riker prodded.

"The surprise within Newkirk and Hogan at their own reactions to the physical contact, much like Hogan's surprise at his physical response to being almost naked and in bed with Gertrude Linkmeyer in my story.

Hogan squirmed on his seat. His lack of control of his own body in those situations was annoying and embarrassing.

"What about the emotional trauma forced on these men? You yourself said that homosexuality isn't within the canon characters."

"These characters were created in the mid 20th century. They carry the social mores and prejudices of their time. While we writers honor that, we will and do filter that through our early 21st century perceptions. In A Hollow Prison the author has Kinch reviewing his feelings and fears about approaching his love interest. He says, and I quote:

"W_hat am I gonna say to him anyway? Hey, Sir...I'm in love with you. Would you care to go bed with me? _Kinchloe shook his head, his shoulders slumping. _How about--Hey, colonel...would you like me to suck your--!_ He stopped, closing his eyes in self-disgust. _It's not about the sex_, he told himself. _It's about wanting to be close to him. About wanting to share everything I have--my heart, my body, my mind and my soul--with him. It's about being able to tell him openly that I love him, to wake up every morning next to him...to have him be the first thing I see each day and the last each night. And like Louis said...to help him put aside the war for just a few moments a day by taking him to a place of solace." _" 1

Kinch looked at me with tears in his eyes, relieved that the depth of his love wasn't being ridiculed. Next to him Hogan patted his knee.

"That does not answer my question, what about the angst and emotional trauma forced on these men by you writers who continually place them in unnatural situations?"

"War is an unnatural situation, Commander. Not being able to honestly and openly reveal one's feeling is unnatural. We did not place these characters in a mid 20th century prison camp. We only write about possible occurrences while they are here." I took a breath and thought 'Frak, I'm preaching again.'

The Prosecutor approached the Judge. "Your Honor I have no further questions for this witness at this time. I reserve the right to recall her when her writing partner is found."

And with that the ants were crawling on my spine again, while the transporter returned me to my home.

* * *

1 From A Hollow Prison by Hogan's Helga as found on the FFN website.


	10. The View from the Gallery, and Recess

The View from the Gallery...and Recess  
Submitted by Mistress V

* * * * * *

The courtroom was abuzz.

Both sides had approached the bench, begging for a sidebar at the same time and the judge granted the request. He then glanced at the clock, noting the lateness of the day and dismissed court proceedings until the following morning at 9. The attorneys followed him into chambers, closing the door firmly.

"Mr. District Attorney?" A guard touched Jack McCoy on the shoulder gently.

"Yes, what is it?" The man had been reading briefs and making notes nonstop since he'd arrived in the spectator benches and even now barely noticed most of the visitors were gone.

"For you, sir. It's urgent." A slip of paper passed between the two men, observed carefully by three sets of human eyes and one pair of android orbs.

"Thanks." McCoy quickly scanned the writing, a frown etching his careworn features. He whistled softly. "I'll be," he finally said.

"Shall I escort you to chambers?" the officer asked.

"Yes, that's fine." McCoy grabbed his possessions and followed the guard up the stairs and out the door.

"Goodness me, I should wonder what THAT was about!" Miss Marple commented.

"I don't know. Shall we go find out?" Her companion offered an arm and helped the elderly woman up. "Court's still in session elsewhere, we could linger in the halls, see what we can learn."

"I'd dearly love to, pet, but I'm just exhausted. I think I'll toddle off to the hotel and re-read my writings, then have a quick meal and an early night. You run along, though, I bet you've still plenty of energy."

"All right. I have to admit, I'm dying to know what's going on now that the D.A.'s been called to chambers. Maybe a deal?"

The two females made their way slowly out of the second story gallery and headed towards the elevator. They were followed closely by the improbable looking pair from Picard's bridge.

"What shall we do now, ensign?" Data asked in a hushed tone.

"You can cut the whispering, it'll call attention to us both. And it's Wes, Data, we're not on duty. Officially that is." Crusher checked his PADD. "We have about a half hour to kill. What should we do?"

"Kill? Is it possible to take the life of time, even if it is fluid and inanimate?" The android looked puzzled, which for him was an everyday occurrence.

"Come on, let's follow those two. Something's brewing downstairs by the sounds of it. But stay away from Riker. He can't see us at all. Got that?"

"Aye, er, yep."

**********

V found herself seated on a bench outside the courtroom Jack McCoy had just entered. Not to her surprise, the pair of futuristic misfits found themselves seated at the opposite end of the bench, also watching the courtroom. Figures, she thought. Oh well, I have work to do. And with that she pulled out her trusty laptop and fired up.

Around the corner and down a small alcove corridor, a light shone brightly and then disappeared.

"This doesn't look like the base in Florida," an irritated voice said. "Look out that window. It's an eastern city and it's snowing! Scotty must have miscalculated. What should we do?"

A pause. "Kirk to Enterprise, Kirk to Enterprise? Come in? Anyone?"

Static.

"Perhaps we should ascertain when and where we are, Jim. Then attempt to contact Mr. Scott."

"You're right, Spock. Now follow me out there and try to blend in, will you?'

"Blend in?" The Vulcan sounded annoyed. "Why should I attempt to resemble a caffeine based drink?"

"Never mind. Just grab a newspaper and start reading. I'll scope the area and we'll compare notes after that."

***********

"Come on, Data. We're due back at the rendezvous point in five minutes." Crusher got up from the pair's vantage point, mightily disappointed they'd learned nothing new.

"Five point two minutes," the android corrected.

"Yeah, whatever." The ensign incognito barely missed colliding with some passers by. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"That's all right. Say, could you tell us the date? We just crossed the international dateline and are a little mixed up."

"It is March 15, 2009," Data replied over his shoulder. If he could possibly have been stunned, he was.

V was aware of the entire series of events, though she sat calmly reading over the latest draft she was working on as though none of it mattered. But it did.

The second pair of interstellar misfits quickly sat down on her bench.

"Did you hear that? It's 2009! Scotty miscalculated by 41 years and don't go giving me hours, seconds and microseconds." Kirk was obviously stunned. "Now what do we do?"

"Try to contact Mr. Scott as soon as we can find out our proper coordinates." Spock peered down the hall at the disappearing duo. "You know, I have the most uncanny feeling I have met that person before."

"Not yet you haven't," V muttered under her breath.

The Vulcan glanced at her sideways but said nothing.

"Naah," Kirk told his friend, handing him a newspaper. "Here, read all the news that's fit to print. I'll be back soon, soon as I find out where this is."

Spock watched his captain disappear into the end of day courthouse throng. He turned back to his benchmate, curious.

"Excuse me, miss, did you say something earlier?" he asked politely.

"No, I was just complaining about the lack of bandwith. I can't get a clear signal," the woman replied, not looking up from her screen.

"Oh, I see. That appears to be a somewhat primitive instrument, to be honest." Spock was curious about the apparatus but hesitated continuing the conversation.

Just then the courtroom doors swung open and Wil Riker left, accompanied by Perry Mason. Both of them were deep in conversation. V's eyes followed them over the top of her laptop as they sat down on the next bench over and began comparing notes.

A moment later, Jack McCoy exited, his trademark Barbour jacket slung over one shoulder. His face lit up in recognition and he approached the woman.

"Hi, Jazzbo," V told him as they embraced warmly.

"V, just look at you. Still a knockout. When are you going to let some man make an honest lawyer of you?" McCoy chided, with the familiarity of one who knew his companion well.

"Is that any way to talk to your first clerk, Jack?"

"Forgive me. So how is our alma mater, Dean V? If you'd been my dean of students back then, I somehow don't think I would have graduated as highly as I did."

"It's fine, but we miss you. When are you going to do a guest lectureship again? I see more of your successor than I ever did of you and that's not fair." The woman pouted prettily.

"Now that's a proposition. Look, I have to meet with someone for a bit, you free for a drink? I'll meet you at the AA in, say, fifteen minutes?"

"Deal. See you then." V waved as her former boss hurried off to his meeting.

Then her gaze caught sight of something potentially disastrous. Oh no, she thought, closing her eyes momentarily. No, no, no!

Over at a bank of pay phones, the older woman from the gallery front row was trying desperately to keep from fainting as she wheezed into a receiver. Her eyes were riveted to the tall man seated directly opposite. Not Riker.

"Mr. Spock, you and the captain need to get out of here. Now," V said quietly, knowing Vulcan ears would hear her.

"I beg your pardon?" Spock dropped his tone to match hers.

A slight nod of the head. "That woman there is calling her friends. They'll be here in a few minutes and you'll never escape in one piece."

"What do you mean? And how do you know who I am?" An eyebrow raised.

"Trust me. They're part of a group that thinks you and Jim are, you know...." V raised her eyebrow and let a wrist go limp.

"Oh no." Spock shook his head. "Not THAT again. You are quite correct, but where shall we go?" He was relieved at the sight of Kirk returning.

"Somewhere they never would. A bar. A real dive. And stay there. In the meantime, here's my cellphone number and my email, they're on the front." V slipped her business card into the man's hand, marveling at the warmth that emanated. Vulcans were definitely hotblooded, she decided.

"Can you...recommend such an establishment?" Spock looked perplexed, his friend was the consummate barfly.

"Around the corner's a good one. The Airtight Alibi. I'll be headed there myself soon, but you'd better leave now. Sit way in the back and keep a low profile."

"Thank you----miss?" Spock got up and motioned to Kirk.

"V."

************

To be continued, perhaps. Now there, my friends, is a REAL attempt at a Mary Sue! :-)


	11. Recess, part 2

Recess, part 2  
Submitted by Mistress V

* * * * * *

V made her way to the Airtight Alibi, a bar she and her cronies drank at now and then. The cocktails were strong, the prices fair and the company good. Jack McCoy had just arrived. He was sitting at the bar, watching the bartender pour out two stiff drinks.

"Good to see you, counselor," the D.A. said in greeting, his eyes traveling up and down the woman's body. "But what's with the outfit? You just drop in from modern pentathlon tryouts?"

"Now, Jack." V took a sip of her drink, appreciating its smoothness. "There was a founder's breakfast over at the equestrian center this morning, and I was the guest of two of the school's biggest donors. So I dressed appropriately and didn't get the chance to change before I got to the gallery." OK, the outfit was a little Indiana Jones, she thought, but so what? When had she started being a conformist?

"I didn't say I disapproved, V." Jack winked over the rim of his glass. "You're looking good, kiddo. But what are you doing in the gallery for this trial, you of all people? Why aren't you being called to the stand as a witness? Your stuff is first rate, you must know that by now?"

V shook her head. "No way, not me. I'd rather listen and learn. This way I have an inroad into what readers like or don't like, without subjecting my own work to a modern day Spanish Inquisition."

McCoy look surprised. "It's FAN fiction, V. In theory, you're all swimming off a dangerous intellectual property dock. You're afraid? This from a woman who stared down twelve jurors from the Bronx?"

"It's different. You have to defend everything you write and it can get more sticky than any constitutional law class we ever sat through. These folks spit fire for opening arguments."

"V, you won the AmJur in your class for that class. I'm not buying it. Could you explain why you're so afraid in lay person's terms?" He covered her hand with his own, his expression soft. "For me? Please?"

"All right, Jack. Make sense of this…if I write a female that's too interesting, she's a Mary Sue. If I make her nondescript or even ugly, I am insulting someone I don't even know who is reading the story. If I write what I am familiar with, I'm a know it all. If I try something new, I am making a 'weakly juvenile attempt at something I have no knowledge of.' If I post feedback to everyone, I'm pompous---or needy. If I don't, I'm cold and rude , so not worth reading as an author. If I give lots of details, I'm a nitpicker. If I don't, some fool asks the most painfully obvious question in the world and then starts an argument on the list. If I question canon, I am a heretic. If I don't, I'm a sheep. If I write about another character or characters in addition to my own pairing, I insult a part of that faction, while another part praises it. Then THEY start arguing---with each other! If I am true to my pairing, I must obviously hate slash, which is the natural order of things in some people's minds. People who sometimes have no idea what they are writing about, but tee hee, it shure sounds ooooh! And I won't even go *there*." V sighed, exhausted.

"I see. So why *do* you write?" McCoy prodded, taking solace in his Scotch rather than trying to comprehend what he'd just heard.

"I don't know, to be honest. I just like writing, always have. Remember when I used to edit your summations? I know I'm good and it's a creative release, even if most people read and don't say one word, negative or positive. It's that damned Greek chorus, small as they are, that bugs me."

"Then," McCoy took a sip of his drink and met her eyes. "I gather you won't be trying any L&O fanfic soon?"

V smiled, placing her hand over her former lover's. "Not unless I can write myself back into your bed, Jack."

"I'd read *that* story."

"Unfortunately, so would Mike." V looked sad. "And as much as I'd like to, what he and I have is special and he wouldn't understand."

"If you change your mind..." McCoy leaned across the distance separating them and planted a searing kiss on his ex's lips, one that spoke of remembered passion and hinted of futures yet to be promised.

"See you, counselor. And keep on writing!"

V watched the love of her life walk out the door and into the early spring night. No, it could never be. Jack McCoy was no more able to be faithful to one woman than he was able to admit he'd been wrong in court. That WOULD be the day. Still, there was Mike. Not quite the same, but...V turned back to her laptop and continued writing.

"Ma'am?" the bartender asked.

"Yes?" She didn't bother to look, of course she'd have another.

A perfect lemon drop martini materialized in front of her. "Gent back there would like you to drink it with him, if that's amenable?" The barman paused, ready to defend his client's honor. "If'n you'd rather me get rid of him, I'll do just that."

"No, thanks Angus. It's quite all right." V closed her laptop, picked up her things and carefully made her way to the back of the room, balancing her drink precariously in one hand.

She'd quite forgotten about Spock.

***********

"Where's Kirk?" she asked as she slid into the dark red booth.

"There." Spock indicated a pool table, where the captain was playing a rather beautiful blonde for...peanuts? Yes, peanuts, and in the shell.

"Thanks for the drink. What news do you have?"

"We have made contact with Mr. Scott. The ship will pass through the appropriate time rift at 02:37 tomorrow morning and we shall be beamed abroad. And then on to where we are supposed to be. I only hope the window of opportunity has not closed." Spock's expression was doubtful.

"Trust me, it hasn't." V took a sip of her cocktail. It was excellent.

"And how precisely do you know this?" Spock continued, curiosity lacing his tone.

"I just do. Please don't ask me more. Or else Mully and Sculder will pay me a visit." The last thing she needed right now.

"Who?" Spock's eyebrow rose.

"Never mind.

"Miss-"

"MISStress V."

The Vulcan was taken aback for a microsecond, trying to put the title into context. "Very well, Mistress V, you are obviously party to some information neither I nor the captain know. Might it have to do with the next years of our mission?"

"Year. Yes." V remained impassive, sensing the Vulcan liked a challenge. Well, she'd give it to him. Lord knows she'd written his pairing with Doctor Chapel that way often enough.

"Could you tell me what we might expect?"

"Are you familiar with the phrase, 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times'? You are? Good. Because the writers have plenty of both in store for you all."

"I see." Spock took a large draught of his beer. "Now about these...females you mentioned. I do believe that at least one attempted to follow us here, so I am concerned our location may not be secure. Who precisely are they? And are they dangerous?"

V laughed into her glass. '"No, they'd probably die of excitement before they got near you. But they're legion in number and they are adamant that you...and him," V indicated Kirk, "are a romantic couple."

"Me and *Jim*?" Spock was aghast. "That is illogical. We both prefer the company of the female species, is that not obvious?"

"Maybe it's the once every seven years for you." V shrugged luxuriously, warming to the topic. "Jim can take care of your needs for the 6.11 years in between, so why not? Of course, you've also been paired with Dr. McCoy, quite sweetly, really."

"DOCTOR McCoy?" Spock appeared stunned and nauseous at the same time.

"Uh-huh. Awards are given for the scenarios, believe me. Oh and you've both dallied with Scotty and a couple of redshirts too."

"No females?" Spock asked in a small voice.

"Sure, for dessert. You both prefer the meat and potatoes of a male/male pairing, though." V went for the kill. "Pure unadulterated gay porn. Mmm, mmmm, mmm. And the fans love it. Most of them."

"You---do you write this also?"

"Me?" V looked around. "Do I look like them? Nope. Yes I write, but you and Kirk are happily paired with women. You both have healthy sexual appetites; that's all I will say. In fact, you just recently became a father in my fictional universe. But don't ask me for more, it'd spoil the surprise."

"Then if you can see the sense for pairing us appropriately, what explanation is there for the rest? It defies logic." Spock looked stricken.

"It's the unattainable. They can't have you, so it's safer to pair you with Kirk. That way no other woman can take you away. At least that's my guess. The thing you can't have is the most appealing after all. The one that's just beyond your grasp. But being Vulcan, you wouldn't have an idea of that very well." Not yet, V thought. Leila was nothing compared to what Zarabeth would offer.

"Something akin to you and the man who just left?" Spock asked softly.

V flushed. "Touche'," she replied. "But yes, that's about it. There are women who would willingly die, just if they could kiss you. That's all they want. A kiss."

"Kiss me? Why? Vulcans do not kiss as a rule." Spock let his fingers slide over his companion's. "We do things differently. But being half human, I would not be averse to...learning about such actions."

"Believe me, there are plenty of would be teachers. I just can't be one of them." V jerked her hand away, tears threatening to spill. Why on earth was she being hit with every dream man she'd ever known NOW? "We have to get you and Kirk to spot so you can be beamed up. Let me take care of that, all right?"

"All right," the Vulcan said resignedly. "Jim has entrusted me to our safety."

"Give me half a mo." V spoke into her cellphone for a few minutes.

"It's settled. You're booked into the nearby city hotel nearest the courthouse. We have an account there, prepaid at the school's expense. All you and Jim have to do is get into you room, give Scotty the coordinates...and wait. How does that sound?"

"Logical and safe. Thank you."

"I'll take you both there myself. Come on." V got up, checking her watch. "It's just 19:30, you'll be fine."

Spock moved swiftly, drawing the woman near and hesitantly bestowing a kiss on her lips, as he'd seen in many a holovid. To his surprise, not only did she respond, his own body responded, and rather nicely, too.

"Are you certain you ...cannot teach me more? There is time," he finally asked, his voice hoarse, when they broke apart.

"I can't. I'm promised to another." V quirked an eyebrow. "And I'm sure you know how THAT is."

***************

Her charges safely checked in, V made her way to the busy street and prepared to hail a cab. She was surprised when a town car braked to a halt just in front of her.

"Hey baby, going my way?" Mike Cutter asked through the open window.

"What are you doing here?' she asked, settling in comfortably to dove grey upholstery and waiting arms.

"Just heading home." He kissed her brow. "So how's your day been, eh? The fanfic trial of the century. I want to hear it all!"

"It's a long story," V sighed, happily snuggling into him. "Best told over a brandy, in front of a fire. But it could take awhile."

"Sounds great," Cutter agreed. "Your place...or mine?"

***********

Now back to our regularly scheduled trial!


	12. Breaking Them Up Isn't Hard To Do

**BREAKING THEM UP ISN'T HARD TO DO  
**Submitted by ColHogan

* * * * * *

ColHogan was busy enjoying lunch in the tunnels with Hogan and his men. They were talking about the trial and what had taken place so far. The men, knowing they only had about two hours for lunch, had LeBeau prepare grilled cheese sandwiches just a bit differently based upon ColHogan's suggestion of adding crispy bacon inside the sandwiches. They all had two sandwiches each with a bottle of red wine. The men, having never tried grilled cheese sandwiches with crispy bacon inside enjoyed it immensely.

"You know something," Hogan remarked to the writer using his name as her pen name. "We really appreciate the heads-up you gave us about ShadowHawk's plans for a story about Major Hochstetter. The plan now is what to do about it."

"She's so infatuated with Hochstetter right now he probably has her eating out of his hand," said LeBeau, worried.

"You're bloody right about that, mate," Newkirk agreed.

"How could she dump you for Hochstetter?" asked Carter looking at Newkirk. "Personally, I don't see the fascination."

"Do you have anything in mind, Colonel?" asked Kinch.

"Not a thing at the moment," Hogan replied running a hand over his dark hair.

Finishing her grilled cheese sandwiches, ColHogan suddenly snapped her fingers as her face brightened. "I have an idea on how to break up Hochstetter and ShadowHawk. At least I think it'll work."

Hogan and his men all exchanged puzzled looks before looking at their lunch guest.

"What do you have in mind?" asked Kinch.

"There's someone who I know from another writer who is in New York for the trial but for reasons of her own is staying away from the courthouse. You need to contact her and have her come to court."

"Who is this person you have in mind?" asked Hogan as he sipped some wine casually, looking at ColHogan. She bent her forefinger and wiggled it at Hogan indicating for him to come closer. She whispered something in his ear. A smile crossed his face as he listened. "It's brilliant!" he exclaimed. "You're certain of the name of the hotel she's staying at and the room number?"

"Definitely," said ColHogan with a devious grin.

"What's the plan, mon Colonel?" asked LeBeau with a smile.

"Kinch, get on the radio and call the Hotel Manhattan and ask to speak with a Ms Lisal Burke, room 301. Tell her about ShadowHawk and Hochstetter and that if she still cares about Hochstetter, she'd better get to the courthouse in about an hour and watch for him. I'm sure she'll know what to do when she sees him."

"You got it, Colonel," Kinch said with a grin as he got to his feet and headed to the radio room. While Kinch was gone, Hogan became serious for a few minutes.

"Something wrong, Colonel?" asked ColHogan, concerned.

Hogan suddenly dusted a bit of dirt off his bomber jacket as did Newkirk. He looked at ColHogan. "I have two questions I'd like to ask you."

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

"You have Kinch, Newkirk and I trapped underground in a cave-in after the Allies dropped bombs near Hammelburg. And I have to deal with a revengeful General Metzger who wants me to get his stolen art collection back for him." Hogan fingered the bandage on his chin. Also, the bandages wrapped around his wrists could be seen. "What's going to happen to me with Metzger and with me, Kinch and Newkirk in the cave-in?"

ColHogan sighed. She wanted very badly to tell Hogan what was going to happen to him with Metzger and to him, Kinch and Newkirk in the cave-in, but couldn't. But she didn't want to leave the Colonel looking so depressed.

"Let's just say you and your men won't be disappointed at what I write."

"I'll accept that for now," Hogan replied, willing to take a chance with one of the defendants who had given them an advance warning of imminent trouble. Everybody looked up as Kinch returned.

"I made contact with Angel," Kinch said. "She said to say thank you to ColHogan for the warning about ShadowHawk. She will see us at the courthouse this afternoon."

Smiling broadly, Hogan finished his wine. "Gentlemen and lady, I suggest we all head back to court. I want a front row seat for this show that's going to take place before the trial."

She hid in a downstairs stairwell after entering the courthouse. She figured she wouldn't be seen but could see everyone who came into the courtroom. She brushed her shoulder-length blonde hair over her shoulder. She was glad she let it return to its natural color. This was the way her Wolfgang remembered her when he last saw her. She was so thrilled to have been resurrected just for this trial. She hadn't changed so much that he wouldn't recognize her when he saw her. Sighing, she saw Hogan, Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk entering through the front door into the building and walk down the long hallway and enter the courtroom. About ten minutes later, she saw a woman she didn't recognize and wasn't quite sure exactly who she was. Was this the woman who was after her Wolfie? After the woman entered the courtroom, she followed her inside and sat on the same side as Hogan and his men but in the last row. The woman she had seen was seated beside Hogan with her arms encircling his. She wondered if this was the writer known as ColHogan. If it was, she'd have to thank her personally.

Then she saw him. Her Wolfie. Handsome as ever in his black Gestapo uniform. There was a woman who looked like a teenager following close behind him. As they took their seats, the teenager wrapped her arms around his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. This was the last straw! Getting up, she slowly approached the opposite side of the court where Hochstetter was seated. Her heart pounded as she stared at him. Just seeing him took her breath away.

"Hello, Wolfgang," she said softly.

Hochstetter, hearing his first name, turned to see who addressed him as did the girl. Hochstetter's jaw dropped and his eyes bulged as he saw what he thought was a ghost. He staggered to his feet, completely disengaging himself from his female companion.

"Lisal....is it you? I mean, is it really you? Or am I seeing things?"

"It's me, Wolfgang." Angel replied, glaring at the girl seated beside her man. "I hope you're happy to see me after all this time? I know I'm happy to see you."

"This can't be happening. You're dead! You died in that explosion! I believed you had perished in that building when it blew up! Hogan killed you!" Hochstetter glared at Hogan as he and his men and the woman clinging to his arm were watching.

"No, no, no.... It wasn't this Hogan, whoever he is. But the building was bombed. I was injured very badly in the explosion, and have only recently been discharged from the hospital. Then I heard about this trial and hoped you would be here. I wanted so badly to see you."

Hochstetter looked into Lisal's blue eyes. The love he felt for her bursting inside. He loved her; had never stopped loving her. Wanting her. Even when he thought she was dead, he still wanted her. He looked at the teenager seated in the chair beside his and then again at Lisal.

"Let us go outside in the hall and talk," he told Angel as he squeezed past ShadowHawk and grabbed Angel's hand. Suddenly ShadowHawk jumped up and grabbed Hochstetter's other arm.

"Where are you going, Wolfie?" she asked, desperately clinging to his arm.

Angel glared at the teen. "Aren't you being just a little too familiar with Wolfgang?" she asked in a taut voice. "From where I stand, you're just a little girl with a teenage schoolgirl crush."

"Not exactly," ShadowHawk replied defensively. "I adore him! And he's mine so take a hike!"

Hochstetter yanked his arm free from ShadowHawk. "I am not **yours**, Fraulein," he said. "And do **not** talk to my Lisal that way. I have loved her from the moment I first laid eyes on her." By now Hochstetter was very close to Angel. He gently touched her face just to make certain she was really there and that he hadn't been speaking to himself. Just the feel of her soft skin with his hand excited him. She was really here. Alive! And she still loved him. He leaned forward and gently kissed her in front of ShadowHawk.

Hogan, still watching, leaned towards ColHogan and whispered: "This is better than the trial itself."

All ColHogan could do was chuckle as she watched. She clutched the Colonel's hand tightly.

ShadowHawk was stunned. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her Wolfie was kissing this....this....woman. What was she going to do about it? She had to do something. But what?

Once he pulled back from her, Angel wrapped her arms around Hochstetter and with everything she had in her, she pressed her lips against his and gave him the most passionate kiss she could. It was so passionate that some of the people sitting in the gallery whistled as they watched the couple.

But as far as Angel and Hochstetter were concerned, they were the only two in the courtroom. When they pulled apart, they looked into each other's eyes.

ShadowHawk grabbed Hochstetter's arm again and started pulling on him. "Wolfie, I love you! I would never leave you like she did! You can't love her! You can't!"

Hochstetter jerked his arm away from her. Lisal was all he had on his mind and was the only one he wanted on his mind. This young girl meant nothing to him. Compared to his Lisal, ShadowHawk was a child. He took Angel's hand in his and squeezed. Then, he looked over his shoulder at the teenage girl.

"You will get up and find somewhere else to sit. This seat is for my beloved Lisal."

"But Wolfie...."

"Mach schnell, fraulein!" Hochstetter snarled with a wave of his hand. "My liebchen is waiting to be seated."

Realizing that everybody in the courtroom was now staring at her, ShadowHawk ran out of the courtroom. Hochstetter escorted Lisal to the now vacated seat and sat down beside her, squeezing her hand. She laid her head on his shoulder, promising herself she would never leave him again. Ever.

She suddenly raised her head and looked into his face. "I thought we were going into the hall to talk, Wolfgang?" she asked.

"Later, liebchen," he replied stroking her cheek. "The bailiff has just come into the courtroom and the trial is about to resume. We will talk later. We have much to discuss."

Smiling, Lisal again laid her head on Hochstetter's shoulder to watch the proceedings beside her man.


	13. Recess, part 3, by Mistress V

Here we go, my muse won't let me go, folks! Last segment, honest. Back to HH after this! A tip of the hat and a nod of the head to ColHogan's mention of grilled cheese bacon sandwiches, which I had to include!

Couple of things for clarification...Kirk and Spock appeared en route to part of "Assignment:Earth", the final ep of TOS's 2nd season. The 'best of times' analogy V made was to the upcoming 3rd season, which really had it all...you name it, it was there. But I digress.

I wrote an HH/TOS crossover, "Boldly to Go", which has alot of A:E references. Check it out if you like!

* * *

Recess, part 3

by Mistress V

* * * * * *

V made her way down to the courthouse, along with scores of early morning commuters. She took a large bite of the cheese and bacon flat bread she'd bought from that charming little French snack stand owner, glad for nourishment before the long day in the gallery began.

A sudden, unfamiliar sensation enveloped her. It could only be described as...shimmering. Almost before she knew what had happened, V disappeared into a beam of light, right in the middle of a Manhattan street, and no one even noticed.

It was dark. Dark and smoky, with an exotic smelling tang to the air. Incense? V closed her eyes, trying to get her bearings. She definitely felt, well, odd. After a few seconds, the feeling of dizziness had subsided enough and she let her eyelids flutter open. She was in a room of some sort, but apart from a rather bizarre-looking lit deity in a corner, she could see nothing but dimly lit shadows.

A hot hand touched her shoulder, then she was pulled into an even warmer embrace.

"V," Spock purred. "Forgive my brazenness but I had to see you again, before we leave this timezone." A pair of blazing Vulcan lips then covered her own and an inquisitive tongue sought hers.

"S-spock!" V managed, when she was capable of coherent speech at all. "Oh, Spock. You crazy, illogical fool. Why, why did you risk everything, just to see me?"

The *Enterprise* first officer held her body fast, obviously intent on continuing the lesson in interspecies sexual behavior. He was naked, apart from a loosely tied silken robe which covered practically nothing of importance. His hands began to wander, with a definite purpose in mind.

"Ohhhh," she moaned, not caring if Kirk heard next door. Rivers of plasma fire were pouring through her veins. "Ohhh, Spock. Why?"

"Because..." he whispered seductively in her ear, "Because I want you and because..."

"YOU'VE GOT MAIL!"

**********

V rolled over, swearing under her breath as she pawed for her glasses. Her laptop lit a ghostly beacon from the bedside table in the grey light of predawn. She frowned and hit the keyboard to check her email. Just as well. It was time for the workday to begin, anyway.

There was one message, from [no one] with [no subject] as the title. Ever conscious of viruses, V scanned it with her Norton program until she was certain it was safe to read. But who was it from? She bit her lip as the screen opened up.

"My dear Dean V,

"I have taken the liberty of sending this message through the rather archaic communication you call e-mail. I was able to ascertain you had a personal account, so I have directed these words there, rather than risk your professional reputation.

"You will be pleased to know that my colleague and I indeed reached our destination. In a few moments, Mr. Scott will take us to where we are needed. The accommodation you provided was quite excellent. Thank you once again for your assistance in what was fast becoming a most desperate situation.

"I see from your business card that you are academic dean of a quite prestigious law institution. You might be interested to learn that it has survived into our time as well and is still educating fine legal minds.

"Since I can say with much certainty that I doubt our paths will ever cross again, may I instead wish you well in your future endeavors.

"Live long and prosper.

"Commander Spock, U.S.S. *Enterprise*"

***********

V's breath rasped in sharply. She blinked twice, but no, the message hadn't moved. Wow. This was going into the super secret file, she thought.

An arm reached across her collarbone, caressing the place where cambric met skin. "Anything important?" a male voice inquired.

"Nope, just the usual." She closed the screen.

"Good," Jack McCoy replied. He snaked his other arm around his companion's waist and pulled her astride him. "Then come back to bed," he invited, a sleepy little smile playing across his features.

"Bed!" V smacked McCoy's bare glute. "This isn't bed, it's the convertible sofa in your office, Jack. Only you could get away with having one. I'm surprised no one else has figured it out!"

"It's our little secret," the D.A. retorted playfully. "The better to seduce you with, my dear."

"Seduce? Who seduced who? I had an itch needed scratching, that's all. Don't read any symbolic act of surrender into it." V's eyes blazed, but with passion, not anger. "And *let* it be our little secret, all right?"

"You look good in that shirt of mine," McCoy said, changing the subject. "Wouldn't you like to wear it more often? Say at my place?"

"Exclusively?" V let her hand wander idly under the sheet covering them both.

"That word's been on my mind quite a bit lately." McCoy joined in the undercover fun.

"You mean ever since I started seeing Mike, right?" V was no fool. She hadn't been one then, and she wasn't about to become one now.

"Seeing. Not sleeping with." McCoy's smile was enigmatic. "I still win."

"Only because I let you----hey!" V's protest was for naught as McCoy expertly rolled her over and pinned her body beneath him. Intense oral contact followed.

"Can I change your mind?" he asked eventually.

"You might, if...you tell me why you were summoned to chambers with all the pomp normally accorded a head of state. Yes, then I might think about changing my mind." V still didn't know why and it bugged her no end.

"Is that all?" Jack rolled his eyes. "Woman, you take me for a fool. But seeing as I have you in my power, I'll tell you. For a price, naturally."

"Naturally." V wasn't protesting.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. A moment later, laughter filled the office.

"You've got to be kidding, Jack!"

"On my honor! Honest!" He tightened his embrace. "Now about that price..."

"It's almost 4:30, mister. How would it look if I came skulking out of the D.A.'s office at 5 in the morning?"

"The same as it looked every other time you came skulking out of my office at five THIRTY in the morning," McCoy growled. "Come here."

* * * * * *

OK, OK, NOW V will return to the gallery with no more forays into the D.A.'s life.

Back to our trial, can't wait to read more.


	14. Konarciq Takes the Stand

Before you start reading this, I have to warn you guys: I don't know the first thing about court procedures, be it American, Dutch, Swedish, or of any other nation. Plain disinterest, I confess. In fact, I regularly needed Sue's help just to be able to follow the first Fanfic Court story. So please forgive me my (probably many) blunders in that matter!

I'm not exactly up to date with the reading of this story either. Real life is interfering big time at the moment. So though a bit outdated, I would like to submit my little bit, for – at least at first glance – I don't think anyone else has taken this up yet!

And of course, the only person in this story of whom I own all the rights is myself. 

xxx

"The defence calls Konarciq to the stand."

In the back of the room, Karl Langenscheidt craned his neck. "What is _she_ doing here? She never hurt any of those guys, did she?"

Being equally unacquainted with the American judiciary system as the witness herself, it took him a few moments to realize that she was not here on trial. At least not yet. And he let out a sigh of relief. Imagine if she'd be ordered to quit writing; then he'd never find out how he had become so heroic in Danzig's footsteps!

Mason stepped up to the lady at the stand. "Welcome, Miss Konarciq."

Konarciq was sworn in, and once she sat down, Mason observed: "I understand that you are not a U.S. citizen. What exactly is your nationality? Your fanfiction-account is rather fuzzy about that."

Konarciq smiled. "I have the Dutch nationality. But I´m currently living in Sweden."

Mason frowned. "Your name doesn't sound very Dutch though. Margherita – I'd guess Italian. And Konarciq – what, Slavian or something?"

"Actually, it's fictional Greenlandic," she replied. "And it's not my last name; just my general internet ID."

Mason blinked. "I see. But Margherita is your real name, is it not?"

Margherita shook her head. "Not really. It's Margreeth. Margherita is just the Italian version of it, because outside the Dutch linguistic area my real name leads to numerous problems in both spelling and pronunciation. And since my first years at the internet were strongly dominated by Italian forums, I adapted my nickname to my linguistic environment. And it sort of stuck."

"All right, I won't bother trying to pronounce the official version then. But now let's get on with the trial." He picked up a paper. "I have here an intercepted email, sent from your address and signed by ´Margherita´, in which you pretty much refer to this trial as a witch hunt. Is this true?"

She looked him calmly in the eye. "No. I never used the expression ´witch hunt´. But I did write that I thought some of the characters´ complaints and accusations to be rather squeamish."

A booing was heard from the prisoners´ side of the room.

"And consequently," Margherita continued, "That some of the authors who have been put on trial here are being bullied around for things that should not need prosecuting."

Uproar in the room, but the judge quieted everyone down with his gavel. "Silence please. Let the witness explain herself."

"Thank you, Your Honour." Margherita took a deep breath. "Well, I see it like this. Things like the flu, a broken leg or even a ruptured appendix are quite ordinary conditions that can happen to anyone – wartime or not. Now I do recall Kommandant Klink having the flu once or twice in the series, but in all the 168 episodes of the series, I don't think anyone else has ever been ill. Fake illnesses or toothaches, yes."

Klink shot up. "Fake?! Those were fake?!"

"But not for real. Over a period of six years, I'd say that's quite extraordinary," Margherita stated. "But no matter how annoying or painful – or even life-threatening such conditions may be, they are part of life's rich tapestry. They can happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere. And I don't see why Colonel Hogan and his men should complain about _those_. I can understand that even a trifling cold can be a heavy burden just after you've been tortured. But then it's the authors torturing you that you need to go after, and not the one giving you a cold."

Mason nodded. "To put it shortly," he summarized, "You say we need to prosecute only those authors who are _torturing_ the men. And we can let the ones off the hook who merely give them ordinary diseases and illnesses, since that's only natural."

"Yes. Even a ruptured appendix is a natural condition that can happen to anyone."

LeBeau scowled. "I wonder if she ever had a ruptured appendix herself," he muttered.

"But torture is not," Margherita continued. And with a glare at her friend Snooky she added: "Nor is killing the men off."

"Did you read any of those torture stories?" Mason inquired.

"Yes, I did. They make me sick," was the answer. "There are a few authors out there I've practically banned; of whom I prefer not to read anything anymore."

"Did you ever write torture scenes yourself?"

Margherita nodded, somewhat embarrassed. "I must confess that I did include torture. Once. After all, we can't deny that the Nazis did things like that. But I kept the description very short, leaving it up to the reader's own imagination to complete the picture if they felt like it."

One of the ladies in the jury stiffened at the mention of this.

But Margherita continued: "But my victim was a so-called other character, from outside Hogan's Heroes. Not that it makes it any less horrid, but I have never tortured or abused any of the regular Hogan's Heroes cast."

"Objection!" an undignified nasal voice bellowed across the room.

Everyone turned to watch the corpulent general struggle to his feet.

"Herr Judge, I object! This author had me turning into a giant stinkhorn!"

Laughter erupted all around him, and Schultz chuckled: "I'm sorry I missed that!"

Even Klink had trouble hiding his smile, and unable to shout over the crowd about his mistreatment, Burkhalter snapped at his subordinate: "What are you smiling about, Klink!? You'd have suffered as much as I would: it was in _your_ quarters! On _your_ sofa!"

Klink shrank.

And with some difficulty, even the judge managed to wipe the smile off his face. "I'm sorry, Herr General, but seeing the general reaction, I don't think that would count. I admit that it may not have been a very pleasant experience for you, but I think there is a distinct difference between nonsense and torture."

Burkhalter fumed, but Mason cut him short.

"You see, Your Honour? Not all the fanfiction authors are that bad. And we may have been wasting our time with a lot of cases that shouldn't even need prosecuting."

The judge nodded. "We'll see what the jury says later on. Are you finished questioning, Mason?"

"Yes sir." Mason sat down.

"Prosecutor, your witness." The judge looked around in puzzlement. "Riker, where are you?"

A handsome, exceptionally tall man rose from one of the first rows, attracting a few appreciative whispers from the female population. "I'm prosecuting today, Your Honour. Allow me to introduce myself: Don Diego de la Vega, from El Pueblo de Los Angeles."

The judge blinked. "Aren't you in the wrong era?"

Diego nodded. "Technically, yes. But my client preferred to have a representative she was well acquainted with. And though I may not be a lawyer, I do have some experience in court matters. (1) And frequently falling victim for abusive fanfiction authors myself, my client figured I would be well equipped to help her state her case today."

"Very well then. You may proceed."

The young caballero put down his papers and faced the room. "Your Honour, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. We've had quite some testimonies in this trial. And most of them were rather alike. Except one. Señora Groundwater´s testimony was called both unique and effective. Yet my client here finds reason to seriously dispute some of Señora Groundwater´s most decisive statements. Is that not so, Señorita Konarciq?"

"Yes, I do," Came the confident answer.

"Let's start with the reason Señora Groundwater gives for her dramatic plots," Don Diego continued. "I quote from her testimony: ´_The original show – _e.g. Hogan's Heroes_ – was so well written, and so well acted, that it was a joy to see those characters come to life_.´ Apparently Señora Groundwater really enjoyed watching the show the way it was."

Nods around the room. Only Hogan paled. He still couldn't get over it that the lady could be so cold-hearted not even to show a tiny little morsel of remorse about all the horrid things she had done to him.

"Yet later Señora Groundwater states," Don Diego continued: "´_Wouldn't be much of an adventure story if there wasn't peril in it, would there? (…) What's the point in writing if there's no challenge to the characters? Look, writing is about conflict and resolution. Putting up barriers and overcoming them. Letting the characters grow. If none of that happens, readers get bored._´ Señorita Konarciq," he turned to the witness, "Would you please be so kind as to explain your train of thought about these quotes?"

"Certainly." Margherita stood, as if to add extra emphasis to her words. "In 168 times thirty minutes of the TV-series Hogan's Heroes, not _once_ has anybody been tortured. And least of all the good guys. There have been threats of torture, but never has it actually _come _to torture. Still, Linda Groundwater seems to enjoy the series. Even without torture. According to her own words, this means the episodes must have had some other source of peril: like challenges, conflicts, barriers… whatever. If not, she would – again according to her own words – have grown bored of the series. So why couldn't she stick with the canon kind of peril? Instead of sickening blow by blow descriptions of the most horrid torturing schemes? If the original show was so well written – as she states herself – then why the need to spoil that concept with her hells of torture?"

A standing ovation from Hogan and his men was her reward, and she blushed under their praise.

"And that's not all," she continued more quietly as the applause died down. "Don Diego, could you please read the other two quotes to the court?"

Don Diego picked up his papers. "Yes. About Señora Groundwater´s claim that the characters from Hogan's Heroes, as well as many other people in this room (including myself) don't really exist."

A murmur went through the crowd. That remark really had hurt the other day. Would the present witness indeed be able to refute it?

And Don Diego read: "Señora Groundwater wondered as follows: ´_How the heck did we all manage to be in the same time frame when we're clearly not from the same era? And how did real people get mixed up with characters?_´ Later on, her counsellor used this to summarize her defense like this: ´_He (Colonel Hogan) can't possibly be living to the principles of this time and space, which means that my client's (Señora Groundwater) defense, that these fanfiction characters don't really exist, at least not in the world as _we_ know it, is perfectly plausible._´ He turned to the witness stand. "Señorita?"

Margherita looked up, clearly more emotional than before. And her voice trembled as she addressed the judge: "Your Honour, doesn't the American constitution state that there should be liberty and justice for _all_?"

The judge nodded. "It sure does."

"Then how can anyone get away with cruel torture and abuse of another human being, just because he or she happens to live in a different universe?"

Don Diego smiled. Liberty and justice, that's what he had fought for, too. Even before his homeland California had become part of the United States.

But the judge looked rather puzzled, and the people in the courtroom were holding their breath. Where was this leading?

Margherita cleared her throat. "I know that the people from Hogan's Heroes are from a different universe – a universe in which one's exact age apparently is not very important."

Hogan let out a sigh of relief.

"But," the witness continued, "Is that an excuse to torture and abuse them in every possible way? Don Diego here is from yet another universe, and so are you and Mr. Mason, and I believe many people in this room. But is that a reason to exclude them from justice? We are all here now, aren't we? So everyone here must be real in some or other universe."

Fervent nods here and there.

"As we have heard and seen during the previous hearing, Colonel Hogan and his men, as well as some of their adversaries, have been cruelly abused by a few authors. The reasons they have been giving so far for this abuse are mostly lame and sometimes just pitiful. But isn't it the foundation of every civilized society to treat every other person – of every race, nationality etcetera – as you would like to be treated yourself? I think these abusive authors have grossly violated that concept. And the mere fact that the victims live in a different universe should not deny them that justice be done to them. After all, what's the difference between being of a different race, nationality, skin colour, religion, sexual preference – and being of a different universe?"

It remained quiet after these words as people digested her words. And the judge gave her a small smile. "I think we may have to recall Mrs. Groundwater to the stand then. But let's have lunch first."

xxx

As everybody hustled out, there was one person who instead fought his way to the front of the room, in the direction of today's witness, who was still talking with her prosecutor.

Don Diego noticed him, and winked at his client. "I believe someone would like a word with you."

And as he retreated with his characteristic long strides, Langenscheidt took to instant blushes again. "Hi," was all he said when she turned to face him.

She blushed, too. "Hi."

For a moment they just stood there. Then Langenscheidt gathered his courage and said: "Thank you so much for giving me a real character."

She smiled bashfully. "You're welcome. You're a nice guy to write about."

He chuckled with embarrassment. "I hope so. I'm just so glad that after all these years I'm finally becoming a real person. Instead of just being some string-puppet that comes in handy whenever another guard is needed besides Sergeant Schultz."

He stopped short as he saw someone else approaching. "Magda! What are you doing here?"

Margherita turned around, blushed – and then paled.

"I'm on the jury today," was Magda's answer to her friend's question. "But if you don't mind, Karl, I would like a word in private with this author."

"Of course." Langenscheidt moved a few feet away. Not too far, though, for you never knew what might happen. After all, Magda was the only person Margherita ever _had_ tortured in her stories. And tortured badly.

But for a start the two ladies were just looking at each other. Wondering, probing – acquainting. Then Magda asked quietly: "Why did you have to kill Davita?"

"Davita?" Karl echoed. "Who is that?"

She gave her friend a grave look. "There are worse kinds of torture than a solid beating, Karl. Like having a beloved child die in your arms, and not being able to do anything about it." She swallowed. Hard. "Davita is… she's my adopted daughter, from my original fandom."

Karl gulped as the impact of her statement hit him.

And turning back to Margherita, Magda repeated tormented: "Why? Why did you have to do that? Especially after…?"

Margherita shook her head. Sadly. "I couldn't help it. It just came out of my pen as I wrote Karin's explanation about her picture. It shocked me, too. But somehow, once the words had appeared on paper, there was no way back. I'm so sorry…"

Magda nodded. "I understand. Well, I think I do." And then, as if they read each other's thoughts, they both reached out and hugged one another. Tight. Both seeking and giving comfort in their mutual mourning over the man neither of them had ever stopped loving.

Langenscheidt approached them, unable to simply stand aside by their obvious grief. But he hesitated as he heard Magda's trembling voice whisper: "Just tell me one thing: are David and I going to get back together this time? Or…?"

Not even Karl Langenscheidt, standing so close in the now deserted courtroom, could discern the answer.

* * *

(1) In the New World Zorro episode "Big Brother"


	15. Vic Fontaine Takes the Stand

This chapter is being replaced for now by a different testimony at the request of ShadowHawk. She felt that she needed a little time to recoup, and will get back to us shortly. Sorry for any confusion. --Bits and Pieces.

* * *

Submitted by Snooky-9093 --- who dictated this testimony to her sister, Ruth, and her daughter, Sara -thanks guys. Linda, I borrowed Michael. Hope you don't mind.

* * * * * *

Harry Stone looked at the note that had been sent to him by his trusty bailiff, Bull. _Well, isn't this just fascinating._ The judge rubbed his hands in glee with anticipation. "Commander Riker, I just got word sent down from your ship that they've located one of your witnesses and that they'll beam him down to testify."

"Understood, sir." Riker tapped his communicator pin and instructed the transporter chief to proceed. Within seconds, a small device shimmered on to Harry's desk.

Harry stared at it, then stared at Riker, then stared at it again. "Riker, what is this?"

"Oh, that's my witness, sir. He's a hologram." Riker moved over to the device, tapped it and stood back while the hologram emerged on to the witness stand.

The appearance out of nowhere of what looked to be a man dressed as a lounge singer from the '60s shocked most of the spectators. Klink and Hochstetter sat there with their mouths hanging open. Schultz turned to Langenscheidt. "Did I just see what I think I saw, or did I see nothing? Did you see nothing?" Langenscheidt was speechless. He just shook his head and stared.

"Who is this man?" shouted Hochstetter. "What is this man doing here?" He stood up and shook his hand angrily at the judge. "Where did he come from?"

Hogan and his posse were actually chuckling at the reactions of the Germans. "Gee," Carter wondered out loud, "Haven't these people ever seen a transporter?" They all recalled the incident during the hearing in which Hogan was sent up to the Enterprise for medical treatment.

Several of the defendants remained in the courtroom in order to watch the proceedings. None of them were surprised by the sudden appearance via transporter of an entity, although a few did not know who he was. Suddenly, a girl seated in the gallery and conspicuously dressed in a blue Starfleet tunic yelled out, "It's Vic. Oh, my God. It's Vic Fontaine from DS9!"

Vic, who was coolly watching the reactions from the witness stand, heard the outburst and acknowledged the girl's recognition with a wink.

Judge Harry, being a fan of standards, was thrilled to have Vic in his courtroom. _I wonder if he'll give us a little sample of his act in my chambers after today's testimony. Hey, I wonder if he knows Mel Torme. _But first… "Commander Riker, your witness."

"Sir, could you please state your name, occupation and address for the court?"

"Vic Fontaine, Las Vegas, night club owner."

"Yes, but Mr. Fontaine, you actually reside in a holosuite program that is currently installed on the space station Deep Space 9?"

Vic realized his mistake and clarified his answer. "Oh, yes, Commander, I am part of a holodeck program that provides entertainment to Starfleet personnel."

"And how do you know this, Mr. Fontaine?" Riker turned towards the jury. "Normally holodeck characters are not aware that they are part of a computer program."

"Oh, that's easy," Vic replied. "I am what is known as a self-aware hologram. I was designed that way. I can interact with anyone from the outside who is in the program, but I know that they're from the outside. I can also influence the events inside the program. In other words, sir, when no one is there, I still live my life in Las Vegas."

"I think I like where this is heading." Hogan sat back on the bench, crossed his arms and grinned.

_I don't like where this is going_. This thought occurred to several of the defendants at the same time.

Mason, who never panicked, and the other defense attorneys just sat back and watched.

"Mr. Fontaine, you are familiar with the case being presented?"

"Yes, Commander. I've downloaded all of the testimony from the trial and the hearings."

"Excellent. Now, I'd like you to recall a certain period of time, an event that occurred during the running of your program. You refer to it as "Badda Bing-Badda Bang." (1)

"Yes."

"Can you describe what happened?"

"A 'Jack-in -the -Box' was inserted that, when triggered, allowed the story to change."

"And then what happened?"

"Like I said, I lost my nightclub. My employees lost their jobs. I couldn't provide Starfleet personnel with my services." Vic was getting visibly upset with the recollection of these events." I even got beat up."

"No!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes!" Vic replied.

The girl in the Starfleet get-up shouted, "Those mobsters were monsters, Mr. Fontaine!"

"Thanks, Doll!"

"Seems like you suffered a great deal, Mr. Fontaine."

"That's right, Commander Riker, and it still haunts me, even to this day. Well, as long as my program is running."

"So, your original premise was changed by an outside influence? Then what happened?"

Vic settled back in his chair and mellowed out. "I got friends."

"What friends?"

"From DS9, Commander, who else? They came in and took care of the problem. Scammed the mobsters and got me back my nightclub."

Riker looked astounded. "You mean, real live people came in and helped a hologram? Someone who wasn't alive?"

"Yes."

"Wow," Harry said. "That's loyalty."

"Why?" Riker asked.

"Commander, if I may quote from one of the humans? It's exact. It's been downloaded."

"Go ahead, Vic."

Both Mason and Kuzak shouted an objection at the same time. "The human is not here!"

"Overruled." Harry quickly decided. "This is an exact quote. Like he said, it's been downloaded. He turned to the singer. "Go ahead, Vic."

"Sisko, that's the commander of the space station, didn't want to help out at first. Cassidy, that's Sisko's girlfriend, told him 'You're supposed to help your friends when they're in trouble, and Vic, hologram or not, is in trouble.'"

"So they helped you…a fictional character!" Riker prompted.

"Hey! You may think I'm fictional, Commander, but let me tell you, when that guy clobbered me, it hurt!" Vic gave some of the defendants an admonishing look.

"What would you say to those defendants who have claimed that they have not harmed these characters, because they aren't real, or because they never go so far as to kill them?"

"These characters…hey guys!" Vic waved to Hogan and his men. "Know what's happening to them, they care about each other. That's real enough for me. I've been there. Maybe if the defendants got to know them better personally, they would care."

"Thank you, Mr. Fontaine." Riker turned to Mason. "Your witness."

"Why don't you take him first?" Mason offered the cross to Michael Kuzak.

"Mr. Fontaine, your scenario was specifically a Las Vegas nightclub circa 1962. A nice atmosphere, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh yeah," he replied smoothly. "It was real nice. We played Sinatra, Sammy Davis; the standards, you know. People danced, gambled."

Harry eyes were closed, he was fantasizing.

Bull hit him on the arm. "Sir, pay attention," he whispered.

"Would you say this is a real life interpretation of what a Las Vegas nightclub would have looked like, say, in 1962?"

"I don't know what you are getting at Mr. Kusak."

"Well, for example, I suppose in your nightclub the majority of the patrons would have been smoking, spewing out nicotine and tar, poisoning themselves and the 2nd hand smokers."

"Objection!"Riker shouted, "Cigarettes don't exist in the 24th century!"

Harry agreed. "Sustained."

"Never mind about the cigarettes," Kuzak said. "Vic, Commander Sisko enjoyed your program and he even sang on stage with you?"

"Yes, you see there was a real nasty war going on. Everyone was under a lot of stress." Vic paused and looked out into the audience. Everyone looked on edge. He turned to the judge. "You know, I think we need a jam session here. Everyone's on edge. I can call up for my band and some instruments. "

Riker shouted again. "Objection! The witness is trying to distract the court."

"What? Oh, right. Pay attention, Mr. Fontaine. No jam session, sorry." Harry looked disappointed. "Go ahead, Mr. Kuzak."

"You know," Carter said, "That would have been fun. I could have played the horn."

"Great idea, Carter, you'd 'ave had the courtroom cleaned out in a jiff!"

Carter glared at Newkirk. "Stop picking on me. All you can do is wave a baton. The Colonel could play the drums, right Colonel? Colonel?"

Hogan, whose chest was again beginning to tighten, was frantically searching the courtroom for several of his men. He could have sworn most of Barracks 11 was sitting in the rear, but now, they were gone. No one else had seemed to notice.

"Carter, did you see that?"

"What, Sir?"

"Where'd they go?"

"Who?"

"Barracks 11." Hogan grabbed Kinch. "Radio Baker and tell him to check the Stalag. See if they went back." He shook his head. "Weird."

"Mr. Fontaine." Kuzak tried to get the singer's attention. "Let's just say your nightclub was not a true representation, but perhaps just a facsimile?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Just like Hogan's Heroes definitely would not be a true interpretation of life in a POW camp or a true representation of a clandestine unit operating in the heart of Nazi Germany?"

"You can say that again. Jolly Jokers." Schultz muttered.

"Sssh. Quiet." Klink admonished his Sergeant.

"But when your program was adjusted," Kuzak continued, "Perhaps a more accurate version showed up?"

"Oh, counselor, I wouldn't know." Vic said.

"I would like to add a few direct quotes from this incident to the record, Judge."

"Go ahead."

"Sisko originally was hesitant about helping Vic regain his night club because he was black and he would not have been allowed into the club. Isn't that correct, Mr. Fontaine?"

"No, well, in reality, yes, but in my club, he was, is …"

Kuzak interrupted. "Sisko stated to his girlfriend, 'We cannot ignore the facts about the past.' Perhaps this applies to_ Hogan's Heroes_, as well. Writers don't ignore the facts about the past, but bring them to light by exploring the dramatic possibilities, by showing the tragedy, by actually and truthfully portraying the danger that these brave men where in."

"I liked it better the other way," Olsen moaned to no one in particular.

Kuzak continued. "Mr. Fontaine, Cassidy answered: 'I know that Vic's is not a totally accurate representation of the way things were, but it isn't meant to be. It shows us the things that could have been, the way they should have been.' What do you think Cassidy was alluding to here, Mr. Fontaine?"

Vic's faced brightened. "My club. It was nicer, it welcomed everyone. It was a haven."

"But it's not real. The writers made it that way, Mr. Fontaine. Just as the original scriptwriters made _Hogan's Heroes_ show a watered down representation of the war. And now, these fan fiction writers show it the way it should have been. "

"No further questions, your Honor." Kuzak handed the cross back to Mason.

"Mr. Fontaine, your program is constantly running, you said."

"Yes, Mr. Mason and I can turn it on and off if I want."

"How?"

"The DS9 people left it that way."

"Oh, so, if for some reason, the DS9 people decided you were no longer necessary, they could turn it, or you off permanently?"

"They wouldn't!"

"Answer the question, Vic."

"Yes."

"So, you continue to exist as long as the residents of DS9 choose to let you exist."

"Yes."

"Thank you. No further question, your honor." Mason, satisfied with his quick cross-examination, sat down.

Vic had no idea whether or not he had helped Riker's case. He wasn't programmed to be aware of legal nuances, but he was programmed to deal with human stress. He turned to Harry, "One song, Judge?"

Harry, who was secretly thrilled, struck his gavel. "One song, Mr. Fontaine."

"Come fly with me, come fly, let's fly away…" (2)

Riker looked up into the gallery and found Data and Dr. Crusher. They both acknowledged the Commander but shook their heads. Vic's testimony looked to be, at best, another draw.

* * *

_(1) Deep Space 9_ 24 February 1999 Episode 7-15.

(2) "Come Fly with Me" written by Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn in 1957


	16. It's in The Script, by Marleen23

It's in the Script

Submitted by Marleen23

Authors note: I had this story written before I read Konarciq's entry that made reference to the episodes.

- - -

Marleen entered the courtroom with her attorney, Ben Matlock. She'd been surprised when she wasn't subpoenaed. She'd been following the case and had noticed that they brought up the fact that she had Schultz get shot. Of course, it was only logical. They couldn't very well take over the entire camp with no one getting hurt. It would have been too easy. Therefore, instead of having one of the heroes get injured, she had chosen Schultz.

Then, there was also the story where she had LeBeau get shot in the shoulder. It was more serious than the graze he had received in the series(1), but she wrote it so that he came out a hero in the end.

She worked overnights and drove over twenty-five miles one-way to work. Most of the days, she needed her sleep. Fortunately, this was her night off so she decided to put in an appearance in court. She and Matlock had already planned their strategy. Instead of taking the defensive, they would take the offensive. They had chosen a surprise witness to testify in her behalf. Since the witness was already present, there was no need to subpoena him. He'd be in for a surprise himself. They also planned to introduce some evidence that should prove helpful to the defense of she and her fellow writers.

Both Hogan and Newkirk were surprised to see her appear. "I thought she wasn't supposed to appear," Newkirk whispered to Hogan.

"She wasn't supposed to," a disgruntled Hogan whispered back.

Newkirk cast a worried look around the courtroom. "This could jeopardize Nimrod's identity. She knows too much."

"I know that. We weren't the ones to call her." Hogan glanced over at Riker. "I don't think he had anything to do with it either."

"Then, how'd she get here without their transporter?"

"Must have found some other way. Anyway, she's here now. Let's hope they keep Nimrod out of this."

Hochstetter had managed to overhear parts of the conversation. So, Marleen knew about Nimrod. He added her name to his constantly growing list. And it seemed that Hogan and Newkirk might know something, as well. He made a notation to that effect next to each of their names. He smiled evilly. Who knew which side would win the case? So far, it looked like a draw. It didn't really matter. He was the one who was coming out of this the actual winner. Hochstetter took a moment to glance at Lisal, who was sitting next to him. He had his Liebchen at his side and was obtaining more information about the prisoners at Stalag 13 than he had from all his investigations in the past. And now, it looked like Nimrod's identity was going to be the icing on the cake.

Marleen and Matlock went to the defense's table. They conferred quietly with Mason for a few minutes.

Judge Harry Stone entered the room and the court was called into session. "Would the defense please call their next witness?" Harry ordered.

Mason stood up and announced, "Your honor, my esteemed colleague, Ben Matlock, will be handling the next portion of the defense."

Harry critically sized up Matlock. Then, he conceded, "All right, proceed."

"The defense would like to call Sergeant Andrew Carter to the stand," Matlock declared, throwing the court into turmoil.

"Me!" cried Carter.

"He's one of the plaintiffs," protested Riker.

"They can't do that," protested LeBeau. Then, he glanced at Hogan for confirmation. "Can they, mon colonel?"

"I don't know," Hogan answered, trying to be heard above the din. "We'll have to see."

"Order in the court!" yelled Harry, pounding his gavel loudly several times. "Order in the court!" The noise began to calm a little. "I'll have order or I'll have this courtroom cleared."

The courtroom finally returned to order. "I object," insisted Riker. "Carter is one of the plaintiffs."

"And a key witness for the defense," Matlock explained. "We have reason to believe that he can provide testimony that is vital to our case."

Carter cast pleading eyes at the judge. "Do I have to?" he begged.

"You're certain about this information?" Harry asked Matlock.

"We are, your honor," Matlock confirmed.

Harry reached his decision. "Very well. The witness will take the stand."

After a worried glance in Hogan's direction, Carter reluctantly walked to the witness stand. He was sworn in, then sat down. "Sergeant Carter, you're one of Colonel Hogan's men, right?" Matlock asked.

Not certain where this was leading, Carter answered, "Um…yeah, I guess you could put it that way."

"And you are all whining about the way the fanfiction authors are treating you guys in their stories, correct?"

Riker was on his feet. "Objection, your honor. Counsel is leading the witness. Besides, it's already a matter of record why we're here."

"I'll rephrase the question," Matlock conceded before Harry had a chance to rule. "Are you satisfied with the way you men have been treated in the stories?"

"No," Carter answered. "We've been shot, poisoned, tortured, killed. You name it, it's probably happened."

"And what about the series? Were you always satisfied with the way you guys were treated in the actual episodes?"

Riker protested again. "Objection your honor. This line of questioning is irrelevant. The show and its writers are not on trial."

"If the court will bear with us a while, I'd like to show where there is relevance," Matlock explained. "We do have evidence to corroborate our findings."

"All right. I will allow some leeway," Harry agreed. "But get to the point."

"Yes, your honor." Matlock had a DVD player and television set brought into the room. He inserted a DVD into the machine, then fast forwarded to a certain point. This scene he played for the court. All present watched as a scantily dressed Carter dove into the well to retrieve a German codebook(2). Just when he was about to be pulled out, an approaching guard caused his teammates to drop him into the well again.

"I suppose you enjoyed this little experience," Matlock observed when the scene was finished.

"Well, no," Carter protested, vehemently. "It was cold outside. And so was the water."

Without any further comment, Matlock put another DVD in the player. This time those present watched as Carter received a Dear John letter from his girlfriend(3). "And this little incident caused you no distress, I presume?" Matlock suggested.

"Of course it did," a distraught Carter responded. "Mary Jane left me for an air raid warden. We were practically engaged. She was supposed to wait for me."

"And we also have these incidents on record," declared Matlock, as he played scenes from one more DVD, followed by several others.

LeBeau was seen being retrieved nearly unconscious from the safe where he had been listening in on a conversation in Klink's office(4). Then, an overheated LeBeau was observed inside a small, supposedly remote-controlled tank(5). After that, all watched as Carter had his foot stomped on, followed up by being berated by LeBeau and then having Colonel Hogan almost step on his other foot(6). There was an incident where Carter was caught in an explosion while working with explosives in the tunnel(7). Another time, he was trapped in his lab with a fake bomb, while Colonel Hogan worked on defusing the real one located directly above his location(8).

"I'm sure we could find other incidences to support our position," stated Matlock, as he turned off the machines. "You've seen the evidence. Why aren't you complaining about these occurrences?"

Carter wasn't quite sure how to answer that. "It was in the script?" he offered, uncertainly.

"In the script," repeated Matlock, with emphasis. Then, after glancing quickly at Marleen and nodding, he turned his attention back to Carter. With a victorious grin, he again repeated, "It was in the script. No further questions."

"Does the prosecution wish to cross-examine?" Harry asked Riker.

Riker considered it a moment. The evidence obviously spoke for itself. What could he say? Therefore, he replied, "Not at this time, your honor. We do however reserve that right for a later date if it becomes necessary."

"All right," Harry agreed. Then, he told Carter, "You may step down."

Carter wasted no time leaving the witness stand and returning to join his teammates.

Since Marleen could sleep that night instead of that afternoon, she decided to remain behind and observe some of the trial. She walked over and sat down near some of her fellow writers. It was obvious where her loyalties lie. Meanwhile, Matlock sat down next to Mason, in case his talents should be needed again later.

____________________________________________________________________________________

1 That's No Lady, That's My Spy  
2 The Well  
3 Request Permission to Escape  
4 Oil for the Lamps of Hogan  
5 Tanks for the Memory  
6 The Dropouts  
7 German Bridge is Falling Down  
8 A Klink, a Bomb and a Short Fuse


	17. L J Groundwater Recalled to the Stand

Judge Stone looked at Linda in the witness box, where she was reminded that she was still under oath.

Michael Kuzak began his next phase of questioning. "Linda, you've been asked up here to elaborate a bit on your testimony, since it seems to have caused quite a stir on both sides of this case."

Linda shrugged. "I guess I was always a bit different," she said.

"Miss... uh... _Margherita_ noted that you enjoyed the original series of _Hogan's Heroes_ as it appeared on television."

Linda nodded. "Oh, yes. I did, indeed."

"She noted that you obviously did not become bored with the type of peril that the characters faced in those 168 episodes that aired between 1965 and 1971, and which continue to be shown on television around the world today."

"No, I did not. With one or two minor episodic exceptions. And then, it wasn't the ideas, it was some of the characters or their actions that I didn't particularly enjoy."

A collective murmur could be heard in the courtroom. Which one or two exceptions? Who did they involve??

"The question then becomes, as was asked earlier today, why you did not stay true to the sort of peril that was shown on the television series, instead of branching into torture and other more difficult circumstances?"

Linda seemed to think for a minute before she answered. "I didn't really branch off as far as people think, in most cases. And when I did, there were a couple of reasons," she said finally.

"Would you please elaborate?"

"Certainly. First of all, the television show was only thirty minutes long—more like twenty-four, when you subtract time for the ads and for the opening and closing credits. That's not really enough time to learn a whole lot about the characters. You can take a guess at their reasoning and their background, but you have to fill in their ordinary, everyday conversations yourself. They presumably know a lot of things about each other that we, the viewers, never get to see, things that could explain their relationship—for instance, how much they trust Hogan, and how close they are to each other. Television, though, only has time for the quickly moving, there's no time for the descriptions, the background, the explanations. When you read, you want to know that, you want to know the characters so that they remain sympathetic. You could, conceivably, argue that they already _are_ sympathetic, but suppose someone reading my story hasn't ever seen the show? So if I stayed strictly with the canon peril, I'd be writing a screenplay, not a prose story. There's a difference. I don't—probably _can't_—write a screenplay. That's not where my talents lie."

"In addition, the canon peril was often already repetitive. Klink is threatened with the Russian front; the boys have to save him. There's a new weapon that the boys have to destroy or discredit. There's a traitor that the boys have to stop, or a defector that they have to get to London. There's a double in the camp. There's a spy among the prisoners... the list goes on. Now, that's fine, because they had a chance to spread this over six years, had some amazing writers, and they could alter this a little here and there so we'd barely notice. But if we all wanted more of the same, we wouldn't be reading and writing fanfiction; we'd simply be watching the TV show. There's no point in writing if you're not going to branch out a little and be a bit creative."

"Some might argue that this is diverting from the spirit of the show," Kuzak said.

"The spirit of the show was that the good guys win, the bad guys lose (or get killed!), and Klink and company come out none the wiser. The characters had certain traits that they would continue to have to stay in character—for instance, Le Beau's strong love of his country, something which I very strongly expressed in a challenge story, _Vive Le Stalag 13_."

"A challenge story—now, we have heard these mentioned already in this courtroom. Tell me how this challenge story helped _keep_ the television characters in character."

"The challenge was to get to the point where France is liberated by the Allies—"

"Liberated!" exclaimed Burkhalter.

"Quiet, General," Judge Stone warned.

Linda picked up where she left off—"and deal with how Corporal Le Beau felt about it, because he was still at Stalag 13. Now, the show itself had Le Beau contradictory on this issue—on the one hand, he shrugged it off saying that when the Allies arrived, the Germans would capitulate. In other episodes, he was fiercely proud and angry about it when it was mentioned. I, therefore, had to reconcile the differences, and deal with the reality of the situation."

"How did you do that?"

"I researched what Paris was really like during the war, how it was treated and used by the Germans, and also the man in charge of making sure it burned if the Allies came near it. Then I had Le Beau actually go back to Paris with Colonel Hogan—not unlike the series, where he also had a chance to go back to France—and have a hand in its liberation. It wasn't easy for him to see what the Nazis had done to his homeland, but it was certainly something he wanted to be involved in."

In the gallery, Le Beau nodded. _"C'est vrai, Colonel,"_ he whispered to Hogan. "I am glad I got to go back to Paris."

"Didn't you also do something else in that story?" Kuzak prompted.

"Well, yes," Linda said. "I had Tiger captured with the other three Underground leaders."

"That could be seen as a point by the prosecution about how you put Colonel Hogan and those he cares about in danger, which makes life difficult for them."

"It adds an element of personal interest," Linda said. "The readers want to know not just what is in Colonel Hogan's head, but in his _heart_. Whether he wants people to be fascinated by him or not, the Colonel is a very attractive man, in many ways. When someone he cares about—and I think everyone knows he cares about Tiger—is involved, we know the story will be led by not only his head, his logic, his mission, but also by his heart and the part of him that would do anything to save her, even defy orders—something else, by the way, that was part of canon."

Then Linda added, "And by the way, for people who _know_ their history, General von Choltitz actually did release three Underground leaders with no logical explanation, right before the liberation. I simply made Tiger the fictional fourth. And people who knew his story would have known nothing would happen to her. Those that didn't, learned something when I explained everything in the author's notes at the end. Also, in this way, I was able to draw Hogan and Tiger closer together, because he had a direct hand in freeing her from the Germans—something which he has done in the series, and also which is part and parcel of his character."

Kuzak nodded sagely. "So what you're saying is, that even though you may have changed some of the situations or their intensity, that you are actually keeping in the spirit of the show—and the characters within it."

"That's exactly right."

"Objection, Your Honor; attorney is putting words in the defendant's mouth."

"Withdrawn," Kuzak said immediately. He smiled at his witness. Their session before her turn on the stand this afternoon had been most productive. "Linda, what other reasons are there for not sticking to straight comedy? After all, Hogan's Heroes was written as a sitcom—a situation comedy."

"That's right," Linda said. "But of course, many episodes dealt with some very serious situations. Not every episode could have a gonculator."

Carter grinned.

"_The Ultimate Weapon_, although it had touches of humor, was certainly serious—Colonel Hogan let a woman go to a place where she would potentially be killed, because he wasn't sure of her loyalties. And in _It Takes a Thief…Sometimes_, a woman's family was being held hostage by the Germans—as was the brother of another Underground agent in another story, and the daughter of another in yet another episode. There was even an episode dealing with the planned assassination of Churchill. And of Hitler. And a very serious look at the Manhattan Project."

"And so this show could be both serious and funny."

"That's right," Linda said with a nod. "The show, as with all television shows, has to aim for as broad an audience as possible. That's required for ratings and for advertisers to spend their money on the show. Television is about entertainment, but it's also about the Almighty Dollar out in Hollywood, and anyone who doesn't believe it is way too naïve. But that's beside the point. My point is, that the audience for fanfiction is, or at least can be, very different from that of the show. Yes, the readers still have to like and enjoy the characters and the idea behind _Hogan's Heroes_. But they can probably accept that it runs well as a drama as well as a comedy, or deals with the more realistic or difficult side of what the heroes were doing, not just the bits where everything goes right with a whole lot of luck! Some of what the heroes accomplished would have been frightening, extremely dangerous, and extraordinarily daring. Some of that can come across in a twenty-four minute comedy... but a lot of it can't. And as Margherita herself pointed out, sometimes things write themselves—and they aren't always pleasant."

"So you feel as though you need to accentuate the difficult things?" Kuzak asked.

"Yes, because those are the things least explored—what is the quote? 'And I, I took the road less traveled'? I can't improve on the show; it's terrific as it is. I can only go in another direction. However, I must say that I _did_ and still _do_ write my share of lighter and gentler stories, too. I do _like_ the heroes, very, _very_ much."

"Tell the court about these times."

"Well, take my Christmas stories, for one. There's a baby in one—a realistic story, but with a very soft touch. Then there's the story about Colonel Hogan meeting Tiger one Christmas eve. That was part of a mission—but it was certainly a very close, gentle moment for them. There was the time the boys got London to find some reel to reel of the Colonel's family, so he could feel like he was with them. I had a short story where you get to see a bit of Colonel Hogan's relationship with his mother. And there was _Hard To Swallow_, a particular favorite of mine—in which Colonel Klink gets the last laugh, without even realizing it!"

Klink smiled broadly, then frowned. "I don't recall that one. I'll have to find it and read it," he muttered to Schultz. "I like to be on the winning side once in awhile."

"Those all seem to be some time ago," Kuzak said.

"True. But there's another one I'm editing at the moment that is quite a bit on the lighter side. I like to see the smiles, too. But I usually—_usually_—still reveal a bit about the characters in them... and this one will, as well."

"Linda, I wonder if you'd address Margherita's question of the rights of the characters. They aren't a part of this universe, as we have pointed out, but they have a right to liberty and justice."

Linda nodded vehemently. "That's right, they do. They certainly do. And that's why I always have them win. There isn't always a clear, easy way to win. War isn't black and white. But there's a victory, somewhere, even if sometimes it seems hollow. That's just the way life is."

"Thank you, Linda. I have no further questions."

"Thank you."

Harry then called Dan into action. "So," Fielding began, "It's 'Life's not fair, get over it'?" he asked. "Is that what you're saying?"

"Well, yes and no," Linda answered. "Life's not fair, no. And the characters have to live with it because... well, because that's how I write it, and they don't have a say in it that way. But they _do_ get justice. I see that they do, every time. Or I suppose I should say, _they_ see that they do."

"_They_ see that they do?" Dan echoed.

"I start a story with an idea in my head. I don't always know where it's going. The characters... 'tell' me what to do," Linda answered.

"You're hearing voices, are you?" Dan chuckled.

"No, Counselor, I'm not 'hearing voices,'" Linda answered. "I'm letting the characters—their personalities, the way they have been ingrained in me through those 168 episodes of television series—dictate how they act, and so the stories go wherever _they_ want them to go."

"Are you saying that these characters _want_ to be tortured? That they _want_ to be upset and in peril and put in impossible situations?"

Linda shook her head. "No. I'm saying that _how_ they get themselves out of those situations that I put them in, is often something I don't feel I have any real control over."

Dan chuckled again. "You know, Mrs. Groundwater, that sounds a bit—you know—_cuckoo_!" Dan observed, moving his finger in a circular motion near his temple.

"It might—to people who don't know my writing process."

"You don't seem to have any remorse for what you have put these people through," Dan pressed. "Don't you have anything to say to them?"

Linda stopped, then looked straight at Colonel Hogan. "If I didn't think they were strong, honest, incredibly brave men, I wouldn't care enough to write in the first place. If I didn't think I would get them out of trouble, I wouldn't be putting them in it. Did I know that I was causing angst for some fictional character's psyche? Of course not. But then, for all I know, someone is doing that to me in some _other_ universe. It's fiction, Counselor. It's writing. It's not real. If they are suffering from psychological torture from something that's not real, it calls into question the whole idea of them being real in _any_ universe. If they don't want me to write about their exploits and show how these men—and so many like them in _our_ real universe—were _true_ heroes in _realistic_ situations, then to me, they're being petty. Sticks and stones can break their bones, but words—and that's all I use: _words_—should never hurt them. I care about these characters. I really do. I think they're all terrific, fine-hearted men. So am I sorry I'm hurting them? Of course I am. But am I sorry that I am showing people that they have courage under fire—_realistic_ fire? No."

Dan regrouped, then asked, "So if they asked you to stop, would you?"

Linda again seemed to address Colonel Hogan himself. "If they told me that they only wanted people to see them as light-hearted spies who could really get out of most trouble in the blink of an eye or with a quick twist of fate, then yes, I would. But I would probably stop writing altogether. Because to me, _Hogan's Heroes_ is about so much more than just a quick laugh in twenty-four minutes. It's about real men, doing real, brave things in spite of all the odds, that really _were_ faced by men and women during the war."

Hogan blinked thoughtfully.

"That's all I have, Your Honor," Dan said. "She isn't going show any remorse for the damage she's caused."

"Objection!" Kuzak shouted. "_Alleged_ damage!"

"Sustained," Stone said. "Alleged, Dan."

Linda was released from the witness box. Hogan watched her walk back to her seat, suddenly feeling more real than he had ever been allowed to feel before. What she said had touched him somewhere inside, and he would have to give it some thought.


	18. Newkirk's Testimony, by ColHogan

Newkirk's Testimony

Submitted by ColHogan

* * * * * *

The moment Bull entered the courtroom following lunch, he looked around and noticed the courtroom was filled to capacity.

"All rise! Criminal Court Part 2, City of New York, is now in session. Case#0876707. The Honourable Harold T. Stone presiding."

The door opened beside the judge's bench and Judge Stone practically leaped out of the door and into the courtroom. Nobody noticed he still had the slinky in his hand. Standing behind the bench Harry put the slinky down, announced everybody to be seated and banged his gavel before sitting down. He immediately started stretching the slinky. He looked at both attorneys.

"Hope everybody had a good lunch and is raring to go again," Harry said watching the slinky move across the desk on its own. "Mr. Mason, you may call your next witness."

Mason rose. "Thank you your Honour. I call Corporal Peter Newkirk to the stand."

Hogan, Kinch, LeBeau and Carter all exchanged confused looks while Newkirk's eyes widened as he looked at Mason while pointing to himself in surprise as if to ask 'me?' Mason nodded at Newkirk and then pointed to the witness stand. Newkirk glanced at the others before slowly getting to his feet and approaching the witness stand. Raising his right hand, he put his left on a rather large hardcover book which, when he noticed the title, a small smile appeared. It was the casebook of Sherlock Holmes written by Arthur Conan Doyle.

"Hey, I read every bloody story he ever wrote," Newkirk commented before Bull could swear him in.

"Really?" asked Bull. "Is Sherlock Holmes any good?"

"Oh, he's a bloody genuis he is," replied Newkirk admiringly. He then glanced at the Colonel. "But not as much of a genuis as the Gov'nor there. The Colonel can run rings around anybody he can."

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Bull, the witness. Remember him?"

Bull looked up at the judge, curiously for a moment, before realizing where he was. He quickly swore in the witness. Newkirk, chuckling, sat down in the witness stand chair. He crossed his legs and waited.

Mason approached the Englander. "Corporal Newkirk, just a few questions if you don't mind." He already knew Newkirk would be a difficult witness, but he would do what he could.

"Not at all, sir. Go right ahead and ask."

"Corporal, you're very fond of Colonel Hogan, aren't you?"

"I'd lay down me life for the Colonel," Newkirk replied earnestly.

"So how did you feel when the Colonel was shot twice by Freitag in Kommandant Klink's office?"

"Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and I were stunned. We couldn't believe it. We were all upset we were."

"So all of you saw Colonel Hogan get shot?"

"We did."

"What happened after you witnessed the Colonel get shot?"

"We saw Freitag stand over the Gov'nor, I mean the Colonel, and was ready to shoot him in the head when his aide, uh Mannheim I think his name was, came into the office. Freitag shot and killed 'im with a single shot."

"Then what happened?"

"Freitag took the gun he used to shoot the Colonel and Mannheim and put it in Mannheim's hand and took his aide's gun."

Commander Riker was listening intently. He figured if Newkirk's testimony continued in the way it was, he might not have to cross-exam him or at least not ask many questions.

Mason folded his arms. "Let's backtrack a bit, Corporal. Why did the Colonel meet with Freitag in Klink's office to start with?"

"Freitag believed the Colonel knew some information about a top secret Allied weapon."

"Can you tell us what this top secret weapon was?" asked Mason.

"Objection!" shouted Riker, jumping up. "That information is still classified."

"I withdraw the question then. Yes or no only, Corporal. Did the Colonel know anything about this weapon?"

Newkirk folded his arms and tried to relax in the chair. "No he didn't. Colonel Hogan was never told what it was. He told Freitag that when he and the Kommandant were invited to dinner by him, but he didn't believe him. He even offered the Gov'nor a lot of money in exchange for this information, but as the Colonel had no ruddy idea what he was talkin' about, he refused. But Freitag didn't believe him and told him he would see him later at Stalag 13. The Gov'nor didn't want to be bothered when Freitag showed up, but he was pretty much ordered there by the Kommandant, so he went."

Mason glanced over his shoulder at Klink who was trying very unsuccessfully to hide as he recalled the terrible event of that night. Glancing to his right, he saw General Burkhalter glaring at him. He remembered that awful night as well but for different reasons.

Hochstetter, holding onto Lisal's hand tightly, was trying to listen attentively to the testimony, but found that Lisal's reappearance consumed all his attention right now. He found himself gazing at her just to make sure he wasn't dreaming and she was still by his side. Nothing else mattered right now.

Mason turned back to Newkirk. "Now, Corporal Newkirk, please tell the court what, if anything, Freitag may have said after he shot Colonel Hogan and his own aide?"

"Well, Colonel Klink and Major Hochstetter came into the office inquiring about the shooting, and Freitag told him that Colonel Hogan had come into the office with a gun and was going to kill him, and that his aide, having seen what was about to happen, came inside and that the Colonel shot and killed him, but that Mannheim managed to fire two shots and kill the Colonel before he himself died. Freitag had even planted a gun on the Colonel to make him appear guilty."

There were horrified gasps from the spectators and those in the jury box. Even Colonel Hogan, recalling that horrible event, paled as if it were happening again. He found himself unconciously tightening his grip on ColHogan's hand which she didn't seem to mind. She leaned over to the Colonel and whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry about that, Colonel, but it was an alternate ending story to an original episode. I just wrote about what would have happened if things had ended differently instead of how they did."

"That doesn't excuse you from putting me in a coma for several days," Hogan whispered. "Why did you do that anyway?"

"It gave you a chance to recover. I'm sorry to say I originally planned to have you die. But when the time came, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. So I put you in a coma instead with the intent on having you survive. As I said in my original testimony, I could never kill you or your men."

"And what did you do at that point?" Mason asked.

"I had me a gun in my jacket, and I shot the bloody bastard through the open window and killed him. That's what I did."

There were cheers from the prisoners section of the court. Harry banged his gavel insisting on quiet in the court. He looked at Newkirk.

"Corporal, please watch your language. This is a court of law." Harry returned to his slinky.

Newkirk looked up at the judge and grinned. "Yes, sir. Sorry sir. It's just that me emotions get the better of me sometimes. Just as the Gov'nor."

"They do, your Honour," Hogan replied to the judge with a grin.

"I understand, Colonel. But this is still a courtroom and we have to observe some kind of protocol." Harry then looked at Mason and asked if he had any additional questions for the British corporal.

"I don't, your Honour." Mason knew Newkirk's testimony would not be helpful to his defense, but it was necessary. He sat down.

"Commander Riker, you're on," Harry said as he tried stretching his slinky to see how long it could stretch.

Riker rose. "Thank you, your Honour." He approached Newkirk. "Corporal Newkirk, let's backtrack a minute. You testified you and your friends witnessed Colonel Hogan get shot. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"You also said you and the others were stunned when it happened. Is that correct?"

"I did, sir. Yes, sir."

"Would you say that event was extremely distressing to you and your friends?"

"Most definitely. I mean, how would you feel seein' one of your best mates gunned down in cold blood and couldn't do a thing to stop it?"

"We understand, Corporal," Riker replied sympathetically. "Now, what happened after you shot Freitag?"

"I was arrested by Major Hochstetter over there."

A loud smathering of boos could be heard. Harry banged his gavel again. Things quieted down.

"Corporal, do you feel that you and Colonel Hogan were harmed by what happened to each of you?"

"Yes, sir. I mean, the Colonel was shot twice, and I was facin' the creative questioning of Major Hochstetter. Wouldn't you be distressed?"

"Would you say you, the Colonel, or any of your friends were permanently damaged by this experience?"

Newkirk thought about things for a moment. He wanted to make certain he said exactly what he wanted to say. "Well, sir, it's like this. We were harmed and were extremely distressed by what happened. Most definitely. But as far as there being any permanent damage done, I can't speak for the Colonel, but I would say as far as me personally, no, sir. No permanent damage."

"Thank you, Corporal. I have no further questions for this witness."

"Righto, Commander," Harry watched his slinky scoot across the table. "Redirect, Mr. Mason?"

"Yes, sir," Mason replied getting to his feet. He thought he could minimize the damage done by Newkirk's eariler testimony. He approached the witness stand and stood directly in front of the corporal. "Just a few questions. When you were arrested by the Gestapo after shooting Freitag, did you think you were going to be killed?"

"Yes, sir, I did. I mean, from what I understand, the author intended only to have that story be a single chapter. So yes, sir, I thought me death was imminent."

"But obviously you didn't die, Corporal or you wouldn't be here. Were you surprised that you weren't killed?"

"Yes, sir. I was rescued by the underground and freed."

"And what about Major Hochstetter? I mean, you were under guard at the time, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir. But there was a roadside ambush and Major Hochstetter and the guard were both killed."

"So you were spared. Is that what you're saying?"

"I guess I am, sir."

"So the author decided not to have you die, but to spare your life, didn't she?"

Newkirk shrugged. He thought he knew where this was going. "Yes, sir."

"Wouldn't you say then that the author known as ColHogan promised as she said in her testimony that could never kill Colonel Hogan or any of his men even though she did create extreme distress for both you and the Colonel?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Colonel Hogan did survive his shooting, did he not?"

"He did."

Riker leaned forward at the prosecutor's table. Unlike Newkirk, he **did** know where this was going.

"So once again the author known as ColHogan, although creating distress and causing harm to the Colonel, saw that he survived and in fact, completely recovered, did she not?"

"I guess so, sir."

Mason raised an eyebrow. "You **guess** so, Corporal? I'd say you know so." He sighed. "Two last questions, Corporal Newkirk. The first one, from what you know of ColHogan's other stories prior to this trial, have you, your friends or the Colonel been permanently damaged by what she has written?"

Newkirk licked his suddenly dry lips. "No sir, we have not."

"And finally, by the time these stories have ended, what would you say are the conditions of all of you? Physically I mean."

"To be honest, sir, I'd have to say by the time the stories have all ended, we were all fine and healthy or at least just about healthy. It was the bad guys who always seemed to end up either dead or sent to England."

Mason smiled. "No more questions, your Honour."

"You may step down, Corporal Newkirk," Harry said. "Mr. Mason, you may call your next witness."


	19. Testimony of Kathy, submitted by Robin

Testimony of Kathleen Candelaria, as witnessed by Robin

* * * * * *

Perry Mason approached the witness box and smiled warmly at the woman seated there. "Thank you for taking the time to come to court. I was willing to just take your deposition in this matter. I'm sure your writing partner is thrilled to have you here."

The witness looked out over the filled gallery at me. I sat on the Allies side of the gallery a few rows behind the Heroes. I am more than thrilled that Kathy was able to get to Fanfiction Court.

Mason was talking again. "You have your name on only one piece on this site. What was your impetus to write the story in question?"

"I was having some bad times," Kathy began. "Real life is a stressful thing. I started to think who really needs to be killed off. I had been a lurker for a while. Of course the first name on the list was Major Wolfgang Hochstetter. To be honest the character has given me nightmares since childhood."

"Why did your co-author refuse to answer questions about this story without you?"

Kathy smiled at me before she answered. "It took two of us to write them. Why should she face this questioning alone? I am just as responsible for their content as she is. I am not only willing to own up to what was written, but I am proud of it."

"How was this story constructed, who wrote what?" Mason questioned.

"Robin and I together came up with 20 different ways for Hochstetter to die. To be frank, this was more for my benefit than hers. I then wrote the basic story. Robin being the better writer, helped clarify and flesh out the stories. You see, I usually write poetry. Being terse is an asset in that writing. It is not so in stories or even these scenarios."

"Do you have any other Hogan's Heroes stories in the works?"

"No, not Hogan's Heroes. I do have a really good story about the creator of the electronic menu. I am still working on it. He will definitely get what he deserves in the end," she said with a wicked grin.

A chuckle moved across the gallery. Mason turned the witness over to Commander Riker who began berating poor Kathy before he even stood up.

"It was very difficult to locate you. Why are you hiding behind your writing partner?" he accused.

Kathy took a deep calming breath. I was very familiar with the look she was giving him. I'd seen her use it on her son when he was little and about to have a tantrum. "Commander," she began in a very even tone, "I was not hiding behind Robin. I did not have my own account. Robin graciously allowed me to post on hers. For your information, it was not this court I was hiding from. It was the bill collectors. Unlike the blissful time you inhabit, in my century, personal finances can go very wrong."

Riker backed off a bit, which surprised me. His tone with his next question was much softer. "Which was your favorite scenario to write and why?" he asked.

Kathy thought for a moment and then said, "I can't decide which is better, I will have to give you two. The first one is Revelations. Interesting enough, while writing this one a quote from, for you Commander an earlier century, kept going through my head. It was said to Captain James T. Kirk on the planet Ekos: 'If we adopt the ways of the Nazis, we are as bad as the Nazis' was the quote."

Riker turned slightly away as if contemplating this statement. Personally I love the fact that Kathy is citing Trek back to him.

Kathy went on, "I like the moment of the realization of Hochstetter that his guilt or innocence was meaningless. All that mattered was his superior's belief he was guilty. Justice did not exist in that time and place. I did feel bad about torturing him, a little. Then I thought how many did he put through this same procedure?"

A murmur went through the courtroom. Major Hochstetter caught my eye and scowled at me. Kathy continued to speak.

"My other favorite was truly disturbing to write and that, I believe, is its value. The Good Fight was written in twenty minutes during lunch. When Major Hochstetter looks at that innocent child with those vile thoughts, chills went over me. How could he be glorifying the Third Reich in his mind and envisioning a bright and beautiful future? It must mean something that when I wrote the story, it makes me nauseous."

"Good on you," Peter Newkirk called out from his seat. Judge Stone banged his gavel.

Riker returned to the attack. "Are you always this vicious?"

Kathy sat up ramrod straight in indignation. "I am not vicious. Wolfgang Hochstetter did not die in any manner that was not warranted. The Gestapo were psychotic bullies given free reign by their Government. Their own viciousness had them feared by everyone, loyal or not. No death written for Hochstetter was as bad as what any citizen of the time could expect from the Gestapo."

Riker was on a roll now. "So you believe you have the moral high ground?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. To reference another story, Picturing A Happy Place by Captain Smirk, Major Hochstetter upon being told to imagine his happy place in order to calm down, responds thus: 'covered in the blood of my enemies.' You would think the man was part Klingon."

Riker did a double-take. He was beginning to become disturbed by the amount of knowledge of his universe this woman had.

Kathy ignored him and continued her answer. "I am not a perfect person, there are many who could testify to that. I do not, however, enjoy the suffering of others. Can Major Hochstetter and his fellow agents say the same? I think not! What did we write that was excessive for the time and place? Nothing, if anything what we wrote was downplayed!"

Riker walked back to his table. It appeared that he was going to rest when he asked one more question. "Why did you write chapter 21? Why incite murder?"

Kathy thought a moment. "What you call inciting murder I see differently. I would call it encouraging fellow writers to stretch their imagination. Asking them to play 'what if', how do they think it should be done? Creativity brings a sense of personal achievement."

Riker turned his attention to the judge. "You honor, I have no further questions for this witness but I would like to recall her writing partner to the stand."

Mason stood and yelled, "Now wait a minute. I want to recall Ms. Margolin as well. Who should question her first?"

Judge Stone turned to the witness box. "Thank you for your testimony," he said to Kathy. "The witness is dismissed and there will be a ten minute recess while I consider who will question Ms. Margolin first. Ms. Margolin?" he scanned the gallery for me.

I stood in my place. "Yes, your honor?"

"You remain under oath and will take the stand in ten minutes. Until then, court adjourned," he finished and banged the gavel.


	20. Hardware Held Hostage, by Snooky

Author's Note: The typing of this interlude was delayed. Pretend my latest story (He Who Save's One Life…) isn't done yet. Okay? Also, this is really embarrassing. Oh, well. Why not?

"Hardware held Hostage"

With the court's permission, Susan had returned home. _I have to let out my dog_, she pleaded. One look at her picture of her mutt and the judge was putty in her hands. She returned to court shortly afterwards with a box of loose English tea, a Brown Betty teapot and her laptop.

"Mason didn't listen to me." Susan had snuck out during a break to call her sister and bring her up to date on the trial's progress. "They're still sticking with the old 'I didn't kill anyone' defense. I don't know how the jury is going to take that. Although, some of the witnesses were very effective on the stand."

"Well, I could find you another lawyer," Ruth responded. "But Martindale -Hubbell doesn't list fanfiction as a jurisdiction."

"Very funny." Susan answered.

"Have you thought about making a deal?" Ruth asked.

"No way," Susan countered. "I'm innocent. I didn't know."

"Maybe if the plaintiffs get to know you better, they'll drop the charges against you. Have you thought about approaching them?"

Susan thought about that. Normally that wouldn't be kosher, but this trial was being run like a zoo. One defendant was already cozying up to Hochstetter and she had spied another wrapped around Hogan's arm. Now, that really bugged her.

"Go after Newkirk," Ruth advised. "You have something in common, and he can get you close to the Colonel."

"All right." Susan observed that as usual no one was paying attention to what was happening in the spectator area, so she headed for the area where the soldiers were congregating and attempted to attract Newkirk's attention. "Psst. Peter."

Peter turned around. "Me?" he mouthed. Susan nodded.

"I have something for you. Here." She held out the box of loose Typhoo tea and the Brown Betty teapot. "I didn't know if you get real tea in camp, so I brought you this."

Newkirk was surprised. How could a person they were suing show such kindness? "Real tea, luv?"

"Loose tea and a pot. My Dad's British. You look like you could use a cuppa."

"Thanks." He took the pot and the box. "Where's your dad from, then?"

"Well, he's been in the States since '49," Susan responded. "But he's an East Ender. Whitechapel. My Grandfather was a Cockney."

"Was he in the war, then?"

"Navy. For the duration."

LeBeau snuck over to see what Newkirk was holding. "Hobnobbing with the enemy, mon ami?"

"Hey Louis, she brought me some tea, lay off."

"I'm not the enemy." Susan nervously faced the short, but angry French corporal. "I told you, I was sorry."

Hogan was watching this conversation with a slightly amused look on his face. He gave a slight nod to one of his men and stood up. "I need a break from sitting. Perhaps a little walk." The Colonel headed towards the lobby.

"Ma'am." Carter was whispering in Susan's ear. "I need you to come with us."

Susan's intuition suddenly gave her a warning signal. She looked at Carter and noticed the gun hidden in his jacket.

"Hey, how did you get that past security and don't point that thing at me," she angrily whispered back. "Besides, you wouldn't use it on me. You just don't do stuff like that and why do you want me to come with you, anyway? Hey, where are we going?" Carter had grabbed her arm.

"Luv," Newkirk was now talking. "The Colonel wants to have a chat with you. You might want to be concerned about this." He opened his jacket. Susan could see a hint of gray hidden underneath.

"My laptop!" _Newkirk filched my laptop_. "Hey, give that back. It's not mine. It belongs to work."

"You'll get it back, Ma'am," Carter said, "If you come with us."

The Colonel's posse brought Susan out into the lobby. Hogan was seated comfortably at a small table outside the coffee bar. He was attempting to decipher the coffee menu. Langenscheidt was hovering nearby, not seeming to care what his charges were up to, as long as they stayed within his eyesight.

The five men and the now extremely nervous author attempted to fit six chairs around the table. Hogan sent LeBeau and Carter up to the counter for refreshments and then flashed a charming smile. The Colonel opened up the laptop right in front of Susan. He was clever enough to power up the computer, but then hit a brick wall. "What's your password?" he ordered.

"I don't care who you are. You can't go around stealing my stuff." Susan responded.

He grabbed the laptop and held it out over the floor. "You know," Hogan said. "My hands aren't what they used to be. They've been broken and my wrists have been mangled so many times, it seems I may have lost my grip."

"Too many times in handcuffs, I reckon." added Newkirk.

"No! Don't drop it! Here." Susan wrote her password down on a napkin. Hogan entered it and the computer screen lit up.

"Neat!" Carter said. "Look at that!" He and LeBeau had come back with a tray of hot drinks. They began handing out the cups.

"Thanks." Hogan said cheerfully. "Now, where's the rat?"

"The what?" Susan was momentarily confused.

"The do-hickey, that makes that thingy move." Hogan pointed to the curser.

"Oh, you mean the mouse!" Susan started laughing. She couldn't help it. "You don't need a mouse for this computer. You just move your hand and push…here let me show you." She grabbed Hogan's hand and started moving it around the pad.

"Aha." Hogan started perusing the icons. "What are these things that look like folders?"

"That's exactly what they are. Folders. They hold information. Here, click on that one, it will open." Susan pointed to a folder labeled homework.

"Ooh, that's boring," LeBeau said.

"What else do we have?" Hogan started moving the icon over folders. "What should I click?"

_Not the documents, not the document_s. Phew. Susan let out a small sigh of relief as he ignored the folder. _No, not the pictures._

"Pictures?" Hogan turned to Susan. She looked nervous. He clicked.

"Aww. Le petit chien!"

"That's my dog." Susan explained.

"Cute." Hogan said. "And this?" He clicked. The boys started to laugh.

"Nice shot of you, Sir." Carter chuckled.

"You seem to attract older women, Colonel." That was Newkirk.

"Hey, I'm not that much older," Susan protested. _Well thirteen years is a bit much, but who cares. _"Besides, I don't think you were born in 1910. You were born in 1905. It says so, on the forums."

"All right, knock it off." Hogan turned towards their captive author. Her face was turning beet red. "Care to explain this?"

"That's my avatar. It shows up next to my pen name. I'm not the only one," she mumbled.

"Kinch?" Hogan passed the laptop over to his radioman, who deftly took over. Within seconds, he had pulled up the fanfiction site.

Hogan did not want it known that he and his team had discovered all of the authors' passwords, so he asked Susan to log in.

"I don't really want to."

"Please type in your password." He pointed his gun at the computer.

_What's with all these guns! "_Put that thing away. You want to get us all arrested!?" Susan hastily typed in her password.

"Hogan!" Klink and Schultz came barreling into the lobby. "I knew you were escaping!" Klink shook his fist. "Hogan, when will you ever learn, no one escapes from Stalag 13!" Klink then noticed the author sitting next to the Colonel. "Excuse me, Fraulein. Hogan, what are you doing out here with this author?"

"Drinking…What is this LeBeau?"

"Café Mocha."

"Drinking Café Mocha. Kommandant. Care to join us?" Hogan offered Klink a cup.

"No, I don't care to join you."

Hogan shrugged. "Suit yourself. Oh, don't worry, we're not going anywhere. See?" He pointed to Langenscheidt.

Klink took another close look at the author. He whispered to Hogan. "Is she the one who…" Klink made a cutting motion across his throat.

"Fraid, so, Sir. We're conducting an interrogation," Hogan whispered back.

Klink nervously backed away. "Oh, well, then. Just be back in time for when the trial resumes. Come Schultz."

Hogan, who had Snooky's fanfiction account open in front of him, started firing questions at the author.

"Why have the side effects decreased all of a sudden?"

"I think it's because most of us are too involved with the trial. We're too busy to update." Susan glanced at the first page of stories. "The other thing is the competition. A lot of new stories and new authors have popped up lately. I've read some of the new stuff and it's pretty tame."

"Well, thank goodness for small favors." Hogan scrolled down the page. He began to get concerned. "But there has been some updating going on, even after you people found out what's been happening to us."

Susan moved in a little closer, to get a better view of the screen. "Yes, I'm sorry, but these authors are in control of their own sites. If they want to update, that's their call."

"But you encourage each other!" Hogan pointed to the amount of reviews posted on some of the latest angst-ridden sagas.

"Well, it's nice to get resolution, isn't it?" Susan snapped back.

"When did this stuff start anyway?" Hogan asked.

"Not sure," Susan said. "Here, go to the last page. There it is." She pointed to the first story. "Wow, 1999."

"Hey, I remember that. We saw Mrs. Schultz at that Christmas Ball." Carter was scanning the screen.

"Didn't that happen right after you tried to start the avalanche with that jam session?" Kinch was skimming the story descriptions.

"Yeah, that's one of the missions you missed out on, Kinch."

"Wait a minute." Susan got the guys attention. "The avalanche. That was from _Look at all the Pretty Snowflakes_. It was the last episode filmed. You mean to tell me nothing happened to you in between that and this story?"

Hogan thought. "No. We went right from there to the Christmas ball. That was our next mission."

"And then this one, Sir." Kinch pointed to the second story posted.

Something about this seemed not only odd, but important. Susan stuck this information in the back of her mind.

Hogan started to absentmindedly rub his side. "Never mind those older stories. You're taking your sweet time getting us all out of camp, aren't you, Susan?"

"That's right!" Carter jumped up. "I've been in and out of those gates on that truck so many times, I'm getting carsick!"

"Sorry," Susan mumbled. "I do have a life! I can't write 24 hours a day, you know. Besides, my back hurts and I'm trying to stay off of the computer."

"Yeah, right." Hogan had Kinch return to her account. "What's this? Click on it!"

"No!" Susan cried. "That's nothing. Those haven't been posted. In fact, I was going to delete them." She started talking real fast. "See, that's why I grabbed my laptop. I didn't…"

"You didn't want us to see these? Kinch." Hogan motioned for him to open up the document manager.

"No." Susan moaned and laid her head on the table.

"Hey! There's Wilson!" Newkirk exclaimed. "You gave him his own chapter!"

"Yes, but I'm not ready to post that yet. Please don't click on that!"

"Oh, sure, you give the medic his own chapter, but, moi, non." LeBeau let loose a bunch of French curses.

"I haven't started you yet." Susan tried to explain. "Sorry. I have to wait for my muse to hit."

LeBeau sniffed.

"Pull this one up, Kinch."

"No, Colonel, don't. That's not done. Please." Susan was now beginning to panic.

All five of the men started to chuckle. "Why don't you post more like this one?" Hogan, his eyes twinkling, his laugh lines showing, looked at Susan. She started to melt, again.

"I am, I mean, I will."_ All right, that's enough_. "Hey, Colonel?" He stopped. "That's private property. Give it back, or I'll, I'll yell."

Wow, Hogan was impressed. "So you do have some backbone in there. Tell me," he walked over and put his arm around her. "What do you think about these other authors?"

"You should know," she answered. "You've obviously seen my reviews. You've already hacked into my site, didn't you?"

That took Hogan by surprise. "Aha, you're smart!"

Susan smiled. "I figured it out, 'theboysfrombarrackstwo!' Really."

"Well, miss know-it-all, what do you think of their excuses? We don't exist. I didn't kill anyone. They got better and that's all that matters." Hogan moved in closer. He was practically whispering in Susan's ear and getting way too close to her neck.

_Sorry guys. _"I think it may be true." Susan silently apologized to her fellow authors. "But I don't think it's a good excuse." _If you don't exist, then I'm in serious trouble right now. "_Is it me, or is it hot in here?"

"Sir, I think you should see this." Kinch interrupted. "This might explain those disappearances."

The five men crowded around the computer.

"What disappearances?" Susan asked warily. Unfortunately, she already knew the answer.

"I've had men disappear from the courthouse, and I've received reports from camp that more have vanished."

"Oh, no! It's started." Susan now dreaded what was about to happen.

"What did you do?" LeBeau was apoplectic. "Delete it, delete it!" he yelled.

"Oh God. I'm sorry. I started this before the trial, then stopped updating!" Susan started to panic. "No, you can't delete it. It's too late. It'll have to play out. If we stop it now, it will be worse. Trust me."

Hogan turned pale then sat back down. "You men keep reading. I can't look."

The men kept reading. "You friends with Robin?" Kinch asked.

"I just know her from some e-mails."

"You seem to have something in common," Kinch replied. "Well the good news, Sir, is you don't get hurt."

"Or killed?" Hogan asked.

"No."

"Well that's all right then, isn't it?" Susan added cheerfully , breaking in before Kinch could give Hogan the bad news. "Can I please have my laptop back?"

Hogan grabbed the computer and closed the top. "Here. You sure you won't make a deal and testify for the prosecution?" Hogan had tried to sweet-talk Susan into switching sides. Although she had killed them off, she had shown remorse and promised not to do it again.

"No." she was adamant. "Like I said, I didn't know. I didn't do anything wrong."

Hogan tried again. "Look, you followed the other authors' trends. They corrupted you."

Susan laughed. "I'm not corruptible, Colonel. Here, Peter. Don't forget your tea. I hope you can find real milk, so you can make it the right way."

"Thanks. Luv."

"LeBeau, I promise I'll start on your chapter as soon as my back feels better. Si on pouvait aller danser...?"

"Carter? Are you still mad at me? "

"Not as much."

Now tightly clutching her laptop, Susan turned and faced the Colonel.

"Well, this has been a real education, Miss Snooky."

"You wouldn't consider taking me off the list of defendants, would you?"

"No," Hogan said. "You've killed me twice."

_Twice_? Susan smiled. "I like a good cry, Colonel. I guess I'll see you back at the trial then." She attempted to shove aside her fantasies, left the lobby and headed towards the courtroom.

"Mr. Mason?"

The defense attorney spotted his client. "Susan, were you talking with the plaintiffs?" _What a zoo, he thought. Some of these women._

"Yes, but I think I may have discovered some useful information."

"Go, on."

"Their first memory after the show ended is actually the very first story posted. And then their next memory was the second story. It's almost as if we're responsible for their existence." Susan was beginning to get excited.

"That's very interesting." Mason was impressed. This could be very useful, indeed. "This merits further investigation. I may have to call you back to the stand."

"If you have to, I guess that's okay."

"Thanks, Susan. I have to make a few phone calls."

The two separated. Susan headed back to the courtroom. Mason found a quiet corner and called his office.

***********************************************************************************

More author's notes:

Martindale-Hubbell is an attorney's directory. Although now available on-line, the set of books was and is also useful. It weighs a ton and could be used as doorstops, stepstools, weights, flower-presses, you name it!

Typhoo is a brand of English tea. It comes in a pretty red box. The loose tea is fabulous. I think they sell it at Wegmans. I get it shipped over from sympathetic relatives.

A Brown Betty is a teapot made from red clay only found in a specific area of England. Many feel these hand –made pots make the best tea. They are still being made today. The pot dates from the late 1600's. You can order these pots on-line in all different sizes.

Milk. Well you all know what milk is, but what you may not know is that it is traditional to have milk with your English tea. But, you must pour the milk first, then pour the tea. That way, the tea warms up the milk, not the other way around. Oh, and if you are using a pot, pour some boiling water in it first to warm it up, then put the tea leaves in., then the water and let it steep for about 3 minutes.

Newkirk and Susan's dad most likely would not have known each other. First, London is huge. Second, Newkirk would have been older and he was in the RAF. Sue's Dad grew up in the East End in what was then the Jewish Ghetto. Newkirk probably lived in a different area of the East End. Whitechapel was an area notoriously known for the Jack-the-Ripper murders. The East End was heavily damaged in the Blitz.


	21. Convalescence and Frustration

Convalescence and Frustration  
by El Gringo Loco

* * * * * *

I'd been on the Enterprise for about two weeks. And though still weak, I was feeling quite a bit better than when I arrived. I still wasn't allowed out of bed without help. And, not that I'd have gotten far without my cane, which for some reason they hadn't returned, I wasn't allowed to leave the sickbay at all.

Still, I wasn't totally bored, as they'd given me access to their library computers. And I spent a fair amount of time either reading, watching old movies, or listening to music through an earpiece. I'm sure they kept a log of everything I looked at. And I was locked out of anything written or recorded beyond a certain date, so as not to pollute the time stream, they said. I could see their point. Now, I'm not a gambling man or really into sports. But the temptation to peek at the next few years' financial pages and a few minor things like World Series and Superbowl scores would be almost irresistible. And one rather painfully taught lesson I remembered from childhood was; the best way to resist temptation is to avoid it in the first place.

I'd learned a few days ago that the being I'd clobbered beaming into my home was a Ferengi. A member of a misogynistic alien race that worshiped profit. And that I'd killed him. They kept this from me at first for fear of worsening my condition. I hadn't intended to kill him. Just incapacitate him long enough for the constabulary to come and get him. But it seems that I'd caught him in the transporter beam when he was most vulnerable. The cane went though his still forming skull and halfway into his brain, killing him instantly.

When Lt Worf came to take my statement I told him, "A loathsome looking creature unlike any I'd ever seen was invading my home. I'd felt my life was in imminent danger and acted accordingly. As far as I was concerned, whatever happened to him as a result was his own damn fault." Judging from his expression I'm pretty sure he agreed with me. I know the captain did, as he ruled my actions excusable.

But the affair didn't end there. Supposedly on behalf of his family, the Ferengi Alliance was demanding either me or compensation. It seems that they vacuum dessicate their dead, place the resulting granules in petrie dish type containers and sell them to whoever will pay. Which, as I was told by Commander Riker, is exactly what they wanted to do to me. I didn't like the sound of that, not even a little bit, and told him so. But he assured me that the captain had already refused their demand for extradition.

But, as it turned out, there was a simple solution. It seems that collectors of old earth artifacts abound in the 24th century. I'd cashed a check the day before this mess began and had been given new bills. To me, it was operating cash. But to them, 300 old earth currency in near mint condition was a rather valuable collectors item. I wound up giving Riker my ATM card and told him how to use it. And in the end, I found that a couple hundred dollars in brand new 20's, most with consecutive serial numbers, made those money grubbing Ferengi some very happy little creeps. They even offered to buy more if I could get them.

I had to think about it. I didn't want to owe Riker any favors. But I figured that I was likely to need local currency at some point. So after a bit of market research, he again raided my ATM. I sold the rat faced creeps some 400 dollars in new 20's for ten strips of something called gold pressed latinum, a bit over half its market value each. Which, as it turned out, was a fair amount of money. I exchanged some of it for the federation credits they used on the ship. Then after offering Riker a small commission, which he politely refused, I had the rest put in a shipboard account, receiving their 24th century version of a debit card in return. Counselor Troi became a regular visitor. I'm told that she's a rather patient and compassionate woman. But what I remembered of her from the series screamed at me not to trust her. Not the least of these were her empathic abilities, which clashed with my perhaps prudish belief that what goes on in my head is a private, invitation only affair. Another was her romantic relationships with Worf, Riker and Dr. Crusher; otherwise known as the security chief, prosecutor, and my doctor. With that combination, there was just no way.

Guinan was a different story. Unlike the others, she was neither ships company nor was she on the prosecution team. I believed her when she said her visits were unofficial. Quiet and, if you'll pardon the expression, down to earth, she had a way of making you want to talk. Still, there was something mystifying about her. And I had this feeling that there was a great deal more to her than met the eye.

Maybe it was simply her incredible age. I can't imagine living 100, let alone 700 years. But it might be different with an entire galaxy to explore. And at one time I would have envied her the opportunity. As a child I dreamed of rocketing thru the universe with the likes of Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon. I remember the shock of Sputnick. Next were a dog named Laika and a chimpanze called HAM. Following in their paw prints were the first human astronauts Yuri Gagarin and Alan Shephard. They were courageous men who truly went where no man had gone before. Fifty odd years later we take space flight for granted. But I remember hearing President Kennedy challenge us to land a man on the moon by the end of the decade. And I remember the day it happened.

No, I wouldn't want to live 700 years. But in some ways age and old memories give Guinan and I something in common. The worlds we knew as children no longer existed. Hers fell to the Borg and mine to evolution. But the bottom line is the same. And as I look around me, my mind just boggles at another 300 years of progress. Despite my initial reluctance, I find myself wanting to trust this ancient being, for she is the only one here that might have the capacity to understand.

Dr Crusher and I haven't spoken much since my court appearance. She'd come in and run her tests or whatever. But it's clear that behind her polite professional demeanor lies a dark cloud of hurt. As my doctor I have to trust her. As a Starfleet officer I can't. And unfortunately, to my alleged mind, the two sides of her are inseparable. And I don't think either she or I knew how to break thru the impasse. I could offer her an apology for what I'd said at the hearing. But it would be meaningless, because the feelings I'd expressed that day were honest. And despite assurances from the captain and others, I just couldn't shake them.

There's an old saying about not judging someone without walking in their moccasins, It does make a difference. While onboard the Enterprise I was beginning to see her crew as real people. And whether they are or not, the transporter beam that brought me here sure was. To me, it was a childhood fantasy turned into a nightmare. To them it was home and I, a man from the 20th century, was an anachronism.

Returning from a lunch, Judge Stone ordered the courtroom television monitors turned on. He then announced, "The court again calls El Gringo Loco."

The monitors came to life with the image of a bespectacled grey haired man wearing what appeared to be a dark blue hospital robe seated calmly at a table. Again flanking him were Dr Crusher and Counselor Troi. Behind them were two armed men flanking what all true trekkies, and most casual viewers, would recognize as the Great Seal of United Federation of Planets. After identifying all present, the court turned to Mr. Mason.

"Mr. Mason, during his last appearance this defendant was obnoxious and even threatening. Never has anyone in this court come so close to being cited for contempt without being so charged. That he wasn't is due only to the possibility that his judgment was impaired by necessary medication. But I warn you and your client that a repeat of this prior performance will not be tolerated. Is that understood, Mr. Mason?"

"It is, your honor."

The judge then turned to me. "El Gringo Loco, Do you understand?"

"I do. And I have a request, your honor."

"What is it?"

"I ask that the record clearly indicate that the medication you just referred to was prescribed for physical rather than psychiatric illness."

"Granted. Anything else?"

"Yes, your honor. I ask the courts permission to act as my own attorney."

"Are you, in fact, an attorney?"

"No, your honor."

"Have you any training in law?"

"No formal training, your honor. But I have done a fair amount of reading and studying it on my own."

The judge leaned forward. "I'm curious as to why?"

Memories of my youth flooded back. "I credit an older uncle who was a member of the bar. He taught me a bit about contracts and precedent as a child. As I got older he introduced me to case law. I found it fascinating and still do from time to time."

"Interesting. But I take it you never pursued legal studies or took the bar?"

"No, your honor."

"I'm curious as to why not."

"The reasons were personal, your honor. But I will say that I discussed them with that same uncle and he approved."

"Fair enough. Alright, I'll consider your request. But under your present circumstances I'm not comfortable granting it at this time."

"I understand, your honor. But begging the court's indulgence, I have another."

"What is it?"

"I ask that the prosecutor be directed to recuse himself due to a potential conflict of interest."

"What conflict?"

"A close personal relationship with Counselor Troi; a sensitive, and member of my treatment team. Under other circumstances I'd ask that a restraining order be placed against her as well. But I don't believe one would be enforceable under the circumstances."

Judging by Riker's expression, if looks could kill I'd already be buried. "Your honor. Any relationship I might have with the counselor has no bearing on this man's case. And as for any restraining order, the counselor is performing her duties as a Starfleet officer. And this court has no jurisdiction over Starfleet personnel performing their duties aboard ship."

The judge scratched his head. "Counselor, do you have anything to add?"

"Yes, your honor. Our chief medical officer asked me in my professional capacity as ships counselor to make an assessment of this man's state of mind. And to monitor any changes therein that might be relevant to his case. I have endeavored to do so despite the patient's lack of cooperation. Under Starfleet regulations my report is considered confidential. As such, it cannot be released to anyone other than authorized medical personnel without the patient's consent, or a direct order from either the ship's captain or a court of appropriate jurisdiction."

"Thank you, Counselor. To the best of your knowledge, has the commander seen your report?"

"No, your honor."

"Is he authorized to do so?"

"I've been given no such orders."

"Thank you, counselor."

The judge then turned back to me. "I will consider your request regarding the commander. But as the both of you have pointed out, I have no jurisdiction over shipboard personnel acting in accordance with their duties. You, on the other hand, I do have some jurisdiction over. And this isn't the first time we've heard about your lack of cooperation. I will be sending a request to the appropriate personnel asking for an assessment of your state of mind. You will either cooperate fully or be held in contempt. Is that clear?"

"It is, your honor. And I object -"

"Overruled. Court will recess for ten minutes."

The screen in the sickbay conference room went dark. Based on what had just happened, my fears were confirmed. We were playing against a carefully stacked deck. And our opponents were holding all the aces. But, while difficult, it is possible to build a winning poker hand out of deuces and threes. And I now knew that that's exactly what we had to do. Looking to either side of me, I could see that the counselor was fuming. I heard Worf's voice telling the doctor, "You should have let him die." The doctor silently shook her head. And I wondered if she were having regrets about saving me.

What happened next surprised me as the counselor stepped in. "She couldn't do that, Worf. Not even if she wanted to."

"With all due respect, counselor. Some lives aren't worth saving. And his is one of them."

"Why not his? He didn't ask for this. I think the problem is that he's seeing himself as our prisoner. And he isn't about to cooperate with his captors anymore than a Klingon would."

Worf growled back, "A Klingon would die before letting himself be captured."

I'll take your word for it. But suppose that same Klingon were accused of a crime. Wouldn't he want a fair trial?"

"Of course." By his expression I knew she'd hit a nerve.

"So would a Betazoid. And, that's all I hear him asking for."

When the screen lit up again the judge asked Mr. Mason if he was ready to proceed. "Begging your honor's indulgence, but in view of the defendants earlier request I must respectfully decline."

"I'm not sure I can accept that, Mr. Mason. In fact, I want both you and the commander up here right now."

A wave of speculation ran thru the courtroom. At the bench, Judge Stone spoke softly, but with anger apparent in his words. "Mr. Mason, you were appointed by this court to represent all of the defendants in this case. Those wishing to retain private council have that privilege. But, unless the defendant does so, or I grant his request to represent himself, you will do so. Is that clear?"

"Your honor, the defendant is clearly uncomfortable with my representation. Might I suggest that the court reconsider his request? Or that he be allowed time to retain other counsel."

"I understand your position, Mr. Mason. But I can't very well order a mental assessment and grant him permission to represent himself at the same time." Then turning to Riker the judge asked, "Commander. Would it be possible for him to contact another attorney from the ship?"

"I'm afraid not, your honor."

"Then I'd say you're stuck with him, Mr. Mason."

"I understand, your honor. But assuming the commander could arrange it, I would like the opportunity to speak with him privately."

"Seems reasonable to me. Commander?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good. In the meantime we will proceed. Mr. Mason, you're on."

Clearly unhappy, Mr. Mason returned to the defense table, ruffled his notes, then turned to me. "It would seem that for the moment we're stuck with each other. So for openers, would you please tell the court when you first started reading fan fiction?"

"I'm not sure exactly."

"Then to the best of your recollection?"

"I think it was sometime around mid March of 1996."

"I'd say that's plenty close enough. And have you read it ever since?"

"From time to time, depending on what else I had going."

"Now, would you please tell us when you first become aware of the television show Hogan's Heroes. Approximately will do."

"That would be the summer of 1965 during the run up to its first season."

"That's longer than some of your co-defendants have been alive. What is it about the show that's held your interest for so long?"

"Quite a few things."

"Could you be a bit more specific?"

"Well, one thing that stood out was the great job the producers, Bing Crosby Productions as I recall, did of mixing comedy with drama."

"And that made it stand out?"

"Most shows of the day; yours, for example, were one or the other."

"You remember my show?"

"Mr. Gardner made you unforgettable. Though I could wish it were Mr. Burger on the other side."

"He was a good man."

"Objection, your honor. These questions are irrelevant to the matter at hand."

"Sustained. Mr. Mason. If you have a point please make it. Otherwise move on."

"My apologies, your honor," Then to me, "El Gringo Loco is Spanish for the crazy gringo is it not?"

"Yes."

"Do you speak Spanish?"

"I do."

"Why would you decide to use something like that as your sign in name?"

"I though it was catchy and distinctive."

"Is that the only reason?"

"No. But the other might seem kind of silly."

"I'd like to hear it anyway."

"If you must know it reminds me of a certain Mexican restaurant."

"You named yourself after a restaurant? And what pray tell did they call themselves?"

"El Pollo Loco. They did all their cooking over mesquite. And their half spit roasted chicken with ear corn and frijoles negro was a meal to die for."

"I'm sorry, frijoles negro?"

"Black beans."

Again Riker stood up. "Your honor, please."

Wiping the drool from his mouth the judge sighed. "That may sound delicious, Mr. Mason, but it's making me hungry. And I hardly see its relevance to the case."

"My apologies, your honor. I was merely trying to establish the origin of the defendants sign in name."

"You've done that. Now, move on."

"Yes, your honor. Now El Gringo, you were called because of the number of reviews you've left in the various fandoms. Why do you leave them?"

Here it comes. "It depends a lot on the story. I believe in encouraging creative effort."

"I see that you sometimes offer plot suggestions posed as questions."

"I do that sometimes."

"Why is that?"

"The authors sometimes ask for them."

"But not always."

"No."

"Objection your honor," I was really starting to hate the sound of Riker's voice. "The witness is being evasive."

"Sustained. The witness is instructed to answer each question as completely and concisely as possible. You may continue, Mr. Mason."

"Your honor, would it be possible for me to have a few moments alone with my client?"

"Not easily, Mr. Mason. Under the circumstances, that would involve calling a recess and clearing the court." That said, he turned to the screen and called on Dr Crusher. "Doctor, given your patient's condition, would it be possible to bring him to the courtroom?"

"I would strongly advise against it, your honor. Given his current condition, there's at least a 50% chance that our transporter beam would kill him."

"Whoa." The judge sat up in shock, "I guess we can scratch that one. Doctor, that space you're in. Is it big enough to hold, say, 50 people?"

"I'm afraid not, your honor. It's a small conference room intended for 10 people, 12 at the most."

"I understand, Doctor. We'll be recessing for the day shortly. Would it be possible for you to stay on the line for a bit afterwards?"

"It should be, your honor."

"Thank you, doctor. Counselor, I'd like you to stay as well." Leaning back he took a long deep breath. "Mr. Mason, would you object to continuing the defendant's testimony at another time?"

"I think that might be wise, your honor."

"Commander?"

"I have no objection."

"Good. I'd like the two of you to stay for a brief conference. El Gringo Loco, your testimony will continue at a later date." Picking up the gavel he announced, "Court is adjourned.". Then he banged the gavel so hard the handle snapped and the head went flying. Sighing as he sat staring at the broken handle, he said, "Somebody find that thing."  
____________________________________________________________


	22. ColHogan Recalled to the Stand

ColHogan Is Recalled

* * * * * *

After court had been ajourned for the day, ColHogan bade Colonel Hogan and his men goodbye and hurried down the steps to try and catch a cab. As Hogan and his men watched from the top of the stairs, Hogan suddenly leaned over and whispered something to Kinch. Then, he hurried down the steps to catch up with ColHogan as she stood on the sidewalk with an outstretched arm trying to flag down one of the many yellow cabs passing by. He gently grabbed her arm. Turning around swinging, Hogan managed to grab her fist before it made contact with his jaw.

"Whoa!" He said innocently. "I didn't mean to scare you. I know it's a bit late to ask, but would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"

ColHogan raised an eyebrow, curiously. Having watched every episode of Hogan's Heroes when the series originally aired and then again when she bought the DVD set, and now having read and written stories on Hogan and his men, she suspected Hogan was only asking in order to pump her for information. But still, looking into those dreamy brown eyes of his would make any woman weak in the knees. She could see why women couldn't resist the Colonel. Perhaps she could get info from him as well that would help the defense. It might be worth a shot.

"I'd love to, Colonel," she replied with a smile.

Hogan turned on his own charming smile in return. "Great! I'll have LeBeau fix us something special."

"I'd enjoy talking with you and your men again. They're all so interesting to talk with," ColHogan replied.

"Oh, they won't be joining us this evening," Hogan said moving closer.. "It'll just be the two of us. Dinner, wine, and two candles."

ColHogan couldn't respond. _Oh boy am I in trouble now! S_he thought to herself.

Dinner had been fabulous. LeBeau had prepared coq au vin and the red wine he had Newkirk 'borrow' from Klink's private stock was perfect for the occasion. After dinner had been served, LeBeau, Carter, Kinch and Newkirk all made themselves scarce leaving their commanding officer alone with his dinner guest.

"So tell me," Hogan began sipping his wine. "Your two new stories. I forgot the titles. What are they called again?"

"One is A GENERAL'S REVENGE and the other TERROR BENEATH BARRACKS TWO. What about them?"

"In the first one you've got me dealing with a vengeful General Metzger, and in the other, you've got me, Kinch and Newkirk buried in the tunnel after a cave-in. Now, from what I've been able to follow in the first one, you had Metzger hit me in the jaw with his gun and handcuff me leaving bruises on my wrists and a cut on my chin. In the second, I'm having a hard time breathing and the three of us are having problems with kerosense fumes and lack of oxygen. Why are you doing this to us? And why especially to me?"

_Be careful, _ColHogan thought to herself, taking a sip of wine._ Hogan is an expert at getting things out of a person, especially a woman._ "Well, let's see," she said, thinking. "You are the leader of your unit. Everybody knows this. If something happens to you, the operation folds and that's the end of it. But** as **the leader, that also makes you a ready target to be taken out, in a manner of speaking. Also, you are Papa Bear, the most dangerous man in Germany and the most hunted man in Germany by the Gestapo and anybody else who happens to be after Papa Bear. Even in the series, Papa Bear was hunted not only by Hochstetter, but by other Krauts as well. And we writers had nothing to do with that. You had Gruppenfuhrer Freitag(1) after you; General Von Heiner(2) after you; and don't forget Myra and Wilhelm(3) when you sent Newkirk to that meeting in your place."

"And the other story?"

"I sort of got that idea from an episode when your radio was wrecked when an Allied bombing mission took place causing a problem in the tunnels with dirt and supports falling(4). We had nothing to do with that either. That was an original episode as well. All I did was expand on an idea."

Hogan seemed to be thinking about what he had heard. "I know I asked you this before. But I'm gonna ask it again. What will happen to me with General Metzger? Will I or any of my men die? And what about me, Kinch and Newkirk in the cave-in? Will all, none, or one of us make it?" He studied ColHogan's face to gage her reactions.

"All I can tell you, Colonel, is what I told you before. You won't be displeased with what I write. It's the best answer I can give because I haven't written it yet. But, I can tell you I don't think I could ever write something involving you or your men without knowing there's a way out. Also, I can tell you something else. I'm soon going to post a completed story that is very light-hearted and nobody gets hurt and no stress of any kind." She checked her watch. It was getting late. "I better get going. We do have court tomorrow, and it's very late." She got to her feet. Hogan got to his and put a hand on her arm stopping her. "Why don't you stay here tonight? It is late after all."

ColHogan stared at the Colonel with raised eyebrows. _Boy, the Colonel's pulling out all the stops this time, _she thought to herself. "I don't think so, Colonel. It wouldn't be right. Besides, your men are all upstairs in the barracks."

Hogan moved very close to his guest. "But they're not in my quarters are they?"

The next day, Hogan and his men were up early as was their guest. LeBeau fixed a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and crispy bacon and hot coffee. When breakfast was finished and the dishes washed and dried, everybody prepared to leave for court. Then the men and their guest all disappeared down the tunnel entrance. After a few minutes, ColHogan asked the Colonel to wait until the others had gone out the tree stump. Alone, Hogan looked at her.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, concerned. His voice was a bit raspy this morning. He didn't mention the bruises that had formed on his throat which actually looked more like fingerprints. He knew his men had noticed them, but didn't inquire. Any thoughts they had they kept to themselves.

"Nothing's wrong, Colonel. I just wanted to say thank you for a lovely dinner and a very enjoyable night. And, to give you this." Throwing her arms around his neck, ColHogan planted the most passionate kiss on his lips he had ever gotten, except from Tiger. Pulling away from her, Hogan caught his breath and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What was that for?" he asked, taking a deep breath.

ColHogan gave him a smirk. "That's been something I've wanted to do since I first saw you in the original series. And because we'll never see each other again after this trial is over anyway." Turning, she quickly climbed up the ladder with Hogan following.

Judge Stone, playing with his miniature models of the original USS Enterprise and a Klingon battle ship on the bench, looked at Commander Riker. "Commander, I understand you wish to recall a witness?"

Riker stood up. "Your Honour, I'd like to recall ColHogan to the witness stand."

ColHogan seemed surprised that she was being recalled. Seated beside Colonel Hogan, she glanced at him wondering if the conversation she had seen him having with Commander Riker when she arrived in court meant anything. She thought back to the night before and knew she hadn't said anything that the prosecution could use. So why was Riker recalling her? Hogan's face was impassive.

After being sworn in, she sat down nervously in the witness box, wondering what this was about. Riker approached the witness stand and stared at her with his piercing eyes.

"ColHogan, let's talk about your two current stories which I understand are being done at the same time?"

"All right." _Hmmm. Nothing unusual with that question. Riker could have found that out himself._

"One of your stories is called A GENERAL'S REVENGE, and the other is TERROR BENEATH BARRACKS TWO. Is that correct?'

"Yes, sir."

Mason leaned forward where he was seated and paid close attention, wondering what Riker was up to as both these stories were still in-process.

"Let's begin with A GENERAL'S REVENGE. How did this story come about?"

"It takes place one year after the original episode called THE COLLECTOR GENERAL."

"And what is this story about? Can you please tell the court?"

"It might be better if I begin with the premise of the original episode. In the original, General Metzger has stolen an art collection from a museum in LeBeau's country of France and brings it to Stalag 13 to hide it. Colonel Hogan and his men find out about it and seek to recover the artwork and get it back. My story starts one year after Metzger has had the artwork taken from him, and he knows that Hogan is responsible and plans on convincing the Colonel on recovering that same artwork and getting it back for him."

"I also understand that story is a work in-progress?"

"It is."

"Now, concerning what you have written already, can you tell us what has happened to Colonel Hogan so far?"

"Let's see. He was to attend a meeting with an underground operative he was familiar with, but found General Metzger waiting for him instead."

"What happened then?"

"Metzger struck the Colonel with the butt end of his own weapon and then made him throw away his own weapon. He also handcuffed the Colonel's arms behind his back."

"Did Colonel Hogan believe he was being arrested and possibly being taken to Gestapo headquarters or perhaps going to be shot to death by the Major?"

"I suppose he might have thought that. But that wasn't what I planned to have happen."

Hogan glanced at the bandages still on both wrists and fingered the bandage on his chin. He was glad Metzger hadn't broken his jaw when he struck him. Crossing his legs, he folded his arms and continued listening to the testimony.

"And just what did you have planned for Colonel Hogan?" asked Riker, his eyes narrowing.

"The reason I had an entire year go by before Metzger and the Colonel meet again was because it would take Metzger that long to come up with a plan to get the Colonel to recover the artwork for him."

"And what did Metzger plan on doing to the Colonel if he refused or didn't succeed in doing what was demanded of him?"

"He had set a plan in motion that either the Colonel would be made to look like a traitor to London or he would turn him over to the Gestapo and Major Hochstetter.

There were loud gasps from the courtroom and from the other prisoners seated on Hogan's side of the courtroom.

In the back row on the opposite side of the courtroom, Hochstetter was smirking and rubbing his hands together like an expectant father. He would make sure Hogan was turned over to him and not to London. If anyone was going to hang Hogan it would be him. Lisal placed her hand on his and gripped it tightly.

"And you didn't think this was causing extreme distress for his men?"

"His men just found out about it. The Colonel downplayed what happened and refused to tell them the truth. In the series, they never touched on what the Colonel would do if something or someone threatened him alone. The closest they may have come was HOGAN'S DOUBLE LIFE. But I believe from having watched the series and reading other stories that Colonel Hogan is the type of man who wouldn't feel it was his men's job to protect him as much as it was his to protect them. He believes as their commanding officer, it's his responsibility to take the hit for them. And if they had been found out, I believe he would make any deal he could to keep them safe, even if it meant sacrificing his own life to do so. Of course his men feel the same way about him. They would give their lives to protect him. But that's never been touched on in the series either. About the only thing the series did show was the bond between these men and how much they cared about each other and when something hurt one of them emotionally, they all hurt for that person."

"She's right, Gov'nor," Newkirk whispered, leaning forward and looking at his commanding officer.

"Oui, mon Colonel. You are always trying to protect us. But whether you like it or not, we are just as determined to protect you."

"You better believe it, boy....I mean Colonel," Carter chimed in.

Kinch leaned sideways towards his commanding officer. "She has a point, Colonel. Without you, there is no operation."

Hogan didn't reply. He brushed some dirt off his bomber jacket as did Newkirk and Kinch who suddenly found dirt and dust on themselves. But it didn't escape him how much this writer seemed to understand him and to what limits he would go to protect his men. It was almost creepy to him. And she wasn't the only writer who seemed to understand him.

"But what about the Colonel? Didn't you think this was causing him distress?"

ColHogan stared right back at Riker without blinking. "I don't believe I caused the Colonel any more stress than General Von Heiner did in THE HOSTAGE or when Newkirk was missing in HOW TO CATCH A PAPA BEAR. Or even Gruppenfuhrer Freitag in the original episode TWO NAZIS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE. And certainly if you want to discuss extreme distresses for the Colonel, who causes him more extreme distress than the White Russian, Marya. Every time she shows up the Colonel never knows whose side she's on. She drives him crazy and stresses him out all the time."

"She can't talk about my Marya like that!" LeBeau got defensive. And he had just started liking this writer.

Hogan leaned forward. "LeBeau, shut-up. You know it's true. Marya causes more angst than any writer ever could."

Harry, who had been having the USS Enterprise and the Klingon vessel in combat, banged his gavel several times. "Let's have quiet in here, folks."

_Touche, ColHogan! _thought Riker to himself. He decided to move on. "What about your other story involving the cave-in?"

"I believe as the men use underground tunnels, there are always the possibility of cave-ins. Especially when the Allies bomb an area near Stalag 13."

"And please explain to this court what is currently happening in that story."

"Colonel Hogan was being thrown a party by his men and Sergeant Wilson because it had been two years since he had been able to get down into the tunnels. But due to radio silence by London, nobody knew a night bombing raid was planned for that same night."

"And please tell the court why it was two years before Colonel Hogan was able to get down into the tunnels?"

_Uh-oh!_ ran through ColHogan's mind. _Now I see why I was recalled. _She looked at Hogan whose face gave nothing away and wondered now if Hogan had somehow gotten something from her without her realizing it.

Riker looked at the judge. "Your Honour, could you advise the witness to answer my question?"

Harry looked at the witness. "ColHogan, you must answer the prosecutor's question."

"It took two years because he had been involved in an explosion in the tunnels that paralyzed him below the waist."

There were murmurs heard throughout the courtroom.

Riker had a smirk on his face now. "I believe this story with the cave-in is part four of a series that began with that traumatic injury to Colonel Hogan, didn't it?"

"Yes, sir. I wanted a gradual recovery for him but still have him function as leader of his unit and as Senior POW officer."

"But he's experienced difficulty in each part of this series hasn't he? Even to one point where he wanted to resign his command, didn't he?"

"Yes, sir."

"In fact, when he discovered he was paralyzed below the waist, he wanted to commit suicide, didn't he?"

"I researched my information very carefully and found out that wanting to commit suicide was one of the emotions a person in his condition would suffer from. So I didn't just make it up."

"And he was harmed in that explosion wasn't he?" Riker thought it was time to drive his point home.

"Yes, sir."

"So in other words, despite being on trial here, you are now writing two stories causing the Colonel and his men extreme distress and causing harm to Colonel Hogan personally. And possibly permanent damage as well. Isn't that so?"

ColHogan let out a deep breath and straightened her back in the witness chair. "I don't believe that to be true, Commander."

Riker was stunned as was the judge. There were murmurs from the jury as well as the spectators.

"You don't? And on what do you base that?"

"Because in any story, the Colonel and his men always run the risk of meeting up again with one of the many Nazis who's plans they've ruined, or valuables that have been stolen that Hogan and his men have recovered; or people they've sent to England who might escape who could want to get even. All I did was pursue that angle with General Metzger who already suspected the Colonel had taken the artwork from him. In the other one, a cave-in could happen at any time to anyone in a tunnel. I believe there was an original episode that had their radio damaged by the Allies having a bombing mission take place too close to Hammelburg. And all the men were down below when it happened. All I did was pursue a slightly different angle."

Riker looked at Harry. "I have no more questions for this witness, your Honour," he said.

Harry looked at Mason. "Cross-examine, Mr. Mason?"

"Yes, your Honour, I do." Mason slowly got to his feet. He approached the witness who by now seemed to get her second wind. "Now, ColHogan, I asked this question way back in the beginning of this trial and you replied at that time it was because you were a big fan of Hogan's Heroes. So now that this trial has been going on for awhile, I'm going to ask the question again. Why did you choose the pen name of ColHogan under which to write and submit your stories to the fanfic site?"

"While it's true that I am a big fan of the series and even bought the DVD set when they came out. It's also because I admire and respect the man in charge. He represents the type of man who can instill loyalty, devotion and can motivate his men. I believe using his name as a pen name represents strength of character."

Hogan found himself blushing as he listened. He was beginning to feel strange. He glanced at his men and could see they were all feeling the same way he was.

"Now, if you admire and respect Colonel Hogan so much that you use his name for your pen name, why do you put him through so much turmoil in your stories?"

"Because as the leader of his unit he is the natural target. And if he wasn't the leader, then whoever it was would be the target. You take away the leader in this case and the operation folds. Even the Colonel's men know this. Without Colonel Hogan there is no operation."

"Is that why you always have him recover in the end?"

"I do. He is a strong person and I also make certain he receives the best medical care possible."

"In your two current stories....by the way, how do you write two stories at one time if I may ask?"

"It isn't easy, believe me. But I manage somehow."

"Isn't it true in the story about the cave-in you have Corporal LeBeau in charge with Sergeant Carter helping him?"

"Yes. I felt that LeBeau needed a major role in a story other than being a chef. And Carter is a lot smarter than people think. I wanted to show that someone other than Hogan or Kinch could take charge if necessary."

From where he was seated, LeBeau's chest stuck out with pride. He finally had something else to do in a story besides cooking and he was proud. He nudged Carter and the two men grinned at each other. "We are in charge in this story, mon ami. Us. You and me."

"Why did you have Kinch involved in the cave-in along with Colonel Hogan and Corporal Newkirk?"

"Well, whenever the Colonel is sick, injured or incapacitated in some way, Kinch is always the one to take over, not only because he thinks similarly to the Colonel, but he is the second-in-command. So I started to wonder what would happen if neither the Colonel nor Kinch was available. Who would take charge at that point? LeBeau came to mind immediately."

"So, in other words, you built up LeBeau's self-esteem by giving him command temporarily and making Carter his second-in-command so to speak."

"Yes."

"Now, in your other story with General Metzger. Why did you decide to pursue that one?"

"Well, if you watch the episode, at the very end when the Colonel walks away from Metzger, the look on the general's face indicated to me he wanted to get even with Colonel Hogan. So, I began to wonder what would happen if the story didn't end there. Also, I was working on a third story at the same time."

Mason arched an eyebrow. "A third story? You mean you were writing three stories at one time?"

There were murmurs from the spectators.

"Three stories, Colonel?" asked Kinch looking at his commanding officer. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes. She told me about it before we left for court."

"Do you know what it's about, sir?" asked Newkirk.

"I'll tell you later," was all Hogan would say. He wrapped his arms around himself. He was impressed with ColHogan despite her being one of the defendants. Not to mention a great kisser among other things. Hogan chuckled. _I better not let Tiger know that someone kisses almost as good as her_, he told himself.

"Can you tell us what it's about?" Mason asked.

"All I can say is it's different from what I've done before and is a lighthearted story for a change. Other than that, I'd have to plead the fifth."

Harry figured he'd have to keep an eye out on the site for this lighthearted story and check it out.

Mason looked at the judge. "I have no more questions for the witness."

"ColHogan, you may step down," said Harry. "As I told you before, you can stay or leave. It's up to you."

"I'll stay, your Honour." ColHogan left the witness stand and resumed her seat beside Colonel Hogan. Sighing that she had survived being recalled, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. Then she felt something touch her hand. Opening her eyes and looking down, she saw that Colonel Hogan had his hand on hers as if to offer some kind of support. He had a smile on his face as well.

* * *

(1) Two Nazis For the Price of One.  
(2) The Hostage.  
(3) How to Catch a Papa Bear.  
(4) Is There a Traitor in the House?


	23. ShadowHawk's Revised Response to Angel

ShadowHawk's Revised and Not-As-Concerning Response to Angel and Hochstetter

A/N: Alright, before we begin, I just wanna say a few things. One, I'm sorry I scared some of you guys with the original version of this chapter. It was waaaayyy too dark and looking back, I wish I didn't submit it at all. I'm not really sure exactly why I overreacted that much… It could be a variety of factors, like how my dad's going back to work in a couple days and I won't see him again for a few months, or stress from school from having tests and exams up the yun-yun, and other stuff like that… so it may have just opened the floodgates or something. But I'm all better now! I just needed a couple of days to let myself be upset and get a grip. So, now I'm back to my normal, silly self and I think that this revised version is A LOT better than the old one. Prepare yourself, though: in my attempts to get back at Hochstetter, there is a chance that you may be disturbed by what goes on in my mind… More specifically, what I call "The Random Hochstetter Thoughts," which I designed for both fantasizing purposes and disturbing-my-younger-brother-just-to-see-his-reaction purposes. So consider yourself warned! LOL! Nah, but seriously… I think they're kinda funny. Anyway… Hope you enjoy this chapter and tell me what ya think of it! 'Kay? ^_^

* * * * * *

Outside of the courtroom, ShadowHawk stood, deep in thought. She reached behind her back and pulled out what looked like to be some sort of scroll. Unraveling it, she muttered to herself, "Good thing I was prepared for an occasion such as this… with the return of Angel, and all, that is."

The scroll was actually something more similar to blueprints, with the words "OPERATION: BLACK WOLF" stenciled in bold letters at the top of the document.

"I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this," ShadowHawk lamented. "But you leave me with no other choice, my beloved Wolfgang… You must be taught a lesson…"

The teenager then acquired her laptop after briefly studying and reviewing her master plan, and put the computer in its carrying case. While slinging it over her shoulder by the case's single strap, ShadowHawk also gathered some of her art supplies, which also seemed to just magically appear.

Once fully prepared, ShadowHawk faced the courtroom doors. Giving it one last glance, she put away her battle plans and took a deep breath.

"…And it looks like I'm the one that's gonna have to break you in…!" she chuckled with a malicious smile. Oh, sadistic evilness, don't fail me now!"

ShadowHawk then walked back into the courtroom and spotted out Hochstetter and Lisal. She went over to them and sat down on the other side of Hochstetter. They both stared at her.

"Um, _Fräuline_," Hochstetter began. "What are you doing?"

She looked at both of them with a smile. "Sitting."

"_Ja_, I can see that, but why?"

"Because my legs will get tired if I stand."

"No, I mean, why here?"

"Because I can."

"Says who?"

"The Constitution of the United States," ShadowHawk answered matter-of-factly.

"I thought I told you that I wanted Lisal to sit beside me."

"Yes, you did."

"Then… why are you here?"

"Well, ya do have two sides, ya know! And, plus, I just feel like it."

It was then that Hochstetter noticed that ShadowHawk had her laptop in its carrying case slung over her shoulder and that she was holding a few pencils, a pencil sharpener, an eraser, and a sketch pad. He began to feel a little uneasy.

"Uh… What are you doing with that stuff?" he asked, uncertain and fearing the worst.

"Oh, this?" ShadowHawk made a motion indicating that she was referring to the laptop and art supplies. "It all plays into why I'm sitting here."

Hochstetter expected her to go on, like she usually would, but she didn't. Instead, she took her laptop out of its case and placed it on her lap, using it as a sort of table for her sketch pad. He felt himself becoming slightly frustrated.

"Well? Are you going to explain it to me or not?"

"Mmmm…." ShadowHawk paused for a second, considering her answer. She then replied cheerfully, "Not."

"What?!"

"Not," she repeated.

"I heard you the first time!"

"Then why'd ya ask me to repeat myself?"

"I didn't!"

"Yes you did."

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did. You said 'what'. Oh, and by the way, that reminds me: you're stuck with it!"

"_Ja_, I did say 'what', but to indicate disbelief! …And what exactly am I stuck with? Besides you, I mean."

"Ya know what?"

"What?!"

"Well, for one, you're stuck with it again, and two, I'm not gonna tell you."

"Why not?!"

"I just don't want to."

Hochstetter could feel his temper rising rapidly, but he knew that direct force would not persuade the teen. He tried taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down and began to carefully word his questions.

"_Fräuline_," he said as calmly as he could, "Why don't you want to tell me?"

ShadowHawk looked up at him. "Take a wild guess," she replied with that incessant smile that reminded Hochstetter so much of Colonel Hogan.

"Is it because of me?" Angel asked. She had been listening to the exchange between ShadowHawk and Hochstetter with some interest.

"Give the lady a cigar! Just don't allow me to light it; my pyromania might kick in."

ShadowHawk noticed a slight flicker of worry flash in Hochstetter's eyes. "Don't worry," she started, "I'm a responsible pyromaniac!"

"Is there really such a thing?" Burkhalter asked. Not only had the conversation captured Angel's interest, but it caught much of the courtroom's, too. They were all curious to see how ShadowHawk would handle the situation.

"I think so," ShadowHawk answered, turning to face the large German. "I mean, I exist, so there _must_ be such a thing! Can't beat that logic, can ya! So, ha!"

She flipped open her sketch book and began flipping through the pages to find her desired page. Hochstetter was able to get a few brief glimpses at some of her artwork.

"I didn't know you were an artist, _Fräuline_…"

"Well, I guess I never got around to mentioning it, seeing as what little time we spent together you were only focused on constantly manipulating me," ShadowHawk replied while continuing to flip through the pages.

"Manipulating you?" Hochstetter didn't realize that the girl had caught on to his _real_ motivations, but regardless of that ignorance, he still didn't like the fact that he had been figured out.

"Yeah, dude. I totally knew ya would, too," ShadowHawk continued. "I mean, I _am_ the one who has spent over two years constantly analyzing and memorizing every, single move you make! After such consistent observation---and a few psych classes, too---you begin to pick stuff up, so to speak. Oh, trust me; I knew you were taking advantage of me straight from the beginning, but in all honesty… I really didn't mind. In fact, I kinda enjoyed it…"

"You _enjoyed_ being manipulated??" Klink asked in disbelief. "And by_ Major Hochstetter_???"

"Well, yeah. 'Cuz I mean, I got to spend time with him and he paid attention to me. Sure, it wasn't for the same reasons as in my fantasies---and even my dreams, sometimes… But it's something, ya know? And it was better than nothing…" the American explained. After a brief second's thought, she continued. "So… I guess, in a sense, _I_ was the one taking advantage of _him_. It's all very deeply psychological when you look at it that way…"

"In other words, it's insane!" Hochstetter growled. He didn't like the prospect of _himself_ being the one manipulated. And the fact that it was by a teenager, who he himself had considered to be a mere child, did not help matters much.

"Ooh! That means something coming from you, Wolfgang! Nah, but seriously… Insanity is just a state of mind," ShadowHawk said nonchalantly. "It's all based on perspective… Just like everything else in life. It's like I always say: Nothing in life is black and white; it's all just shades of gray. That's just one of my philosophies of life. I have a few others, but they don't really apply here, right now… But ANYWAY, to get back to the original point…"

By this time, ShadowHawk had found the page she was looking for and flipped over the pages before it so that it was on top. "Yes, I am an artist; I've been drawing since first grade… so, since I was about 6-years-old. And I mean, like, really taking drawing seriously. Like, not just doodling when I should be paying attention in school, although I _do_ do that, too… I just suck at realism… as my drawings of you can attest to that… At least, in my opinion, I do… But, come to think of it, I _have_ caused a lot of jaws to drop…"

"Yeah? Well, no matter how long you've been drawing, I'll bet you'll still never be better than my Lisal." Hochstetter gave Angel a little kiss on the cheek.

"Dude, don't even do that."

"Do what, _Fräuline_?"

"Okay, first of all, I do have a name, alright?! This whole '_Fräuline_' thing is starting to get a little irritating. And second, don't you dare start comparing me to her or go about showing off your affections for each other right in my face! That's the equivalent of signing your own death warrant!"

"You'd really kill _me_?" Hochstetter asked, not believing her.

"Only if I was feeling merciful."

"And, if you weren't?"

"Well, dude, let's just say that there are many worse fates than death, and when motivated, I can get pretty cruel… So don't push me! Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to drawing these little stick figures!" She turned away from him and began doodling on the paper. Hochstetter continued watching what she was doing.

"So, those are stick figures, are they?" he said as he looked at the various scribbles on the page. "I can't help but notice the one that has my name with an arrow pointing to it has a broken leg…"

"Dude, that's not a leg. "

Hochstetter paused, somewhat stunned. "… It's not…?"

"Nope."

"Uh, well… what is it, then?" he questioned hesitatingly.

"Use your imagination."

"I'd rather not… unless it dealt with my Lisal…"

"Alright, man. That's it," ShadowHawk stated as she put down her pencil. "I warned you, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back---and don't you even _think_ about saying anything about that saying! After all, as another saying goes that I shall say---amongst other things--- Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and you've really pissed me off, man. So, you'd best prepare yourself for the worst, 'cuz I'm gonna bother you, and annoy you, and harass you, and disturb you and your sick little mind with my own much-more-sick-er mind! That's right! I'm breaking out the Random Hochstetter Thoughts! Plus, I'm gonna poke you, too!" ShadowHawk announced as she poked Hochstetter.

"The Random Hochstetter Thoughts??" a voice asked from somewhere in the courtroom.

"Yup! They're just a whole bunch of completely random thoughts about Hochstetter, primarily designed to disturb my younger brother! For example, there's only one that's a complete thought; the rest kinda end with dot dot dot… But, if Hochstetter went trick-or-treating, what would he go as, and why? That's the only complete thought. Mep! Now I have to poke Hochstetter!"

She then proceeded to do just that. Hochstetter tried to fight her off, but there was just no messing with this American's determination, and she soon succeeded in poking him in the shoulder.

"I'm beginning a new habit!" ShadowHawk proclaimed. "From now on, I poke Major Hochstetter for each Random Thought I think of! …Oh! Wait a minute! I just thought of a new one!" And staying true to her word, ShadowHawk poked the major, yelling "Poke!" as she did so.

"Alright! Ya ready? … If Hochstetter went skinny-dipping…"

ShadowHawk either paused for a dramatic effect, or paused to envision and fantasize about her latest thought. Whatever the reason, though, there was still quite a few gagging sounds as almost the entire courtroom began to feel queasy. Suddenly, ShadowHawk started giggling.

"Omg! I just got a funny image in my head! It's Hochstetter, only he's like George of the jungle! Can you imagine him swinging from vine to vine in, like, a loincloth or something, crashing into trees all the time? Ahh, that's just too funny…!"

If one could only imagine some of the looks she was getting… ShadowHawk continued chuckling to herself.

"Boy, I'm really messed up, aren't I?" she asked no one in particular.

"YES!!!" the entire courtroom replied immediately and unanimously.

"Yeah… I know… There's some other Random Hochstetter Thoughts that I've already thought of, too…"

"I don't want to know," Hochstetter said bluntly. _What kind of sick, twisted, and perverted psycho have I ticked off now?_ He wondered desperately to himself. _She was right before: Ignorance really __**is**__ bliss…_

"Well, too bad! I'm tellin' ya!" ShadowHawk declared. "They're really not _as_ bad as those previous examples, but they're still Random Hochstetter Thoughts, dammit! So…"

"Please don't!" Klink begged.

"If Hochstetter had tattoos…"

"Why are you doing this to the rest of us?!" Burkhalter demanded.

"If Hochstetter was a biker dude… ya know, with like leather, and chains, a bandana, a Harley Davidson motorcycle…"

"I hear nothing!" Schultz claimed, trying to block out the images the girl was placing in everyone's head.

"If Hochstetter went goth…"

"You're even disturbing me, too!" Angel cried.

"If Hochstetter was a pediatrician…"

"It's fine if you want to disturb _Hochstetter_, but at least spare _us_!" Hogan yelled.

"If Hochstetter went bowling…"

"Why?! Why are you doing this to us?!" whimpered Carter.

"If Hochstetter was a ballerina…"

"Ya wanna talk 'bout extreme mental and emotional distress!? Here ya go!" Newkirk shouted.

"If Hochstetter was a ping pong addict…"

"Colonel, please! Make it stop!" Kinch pleaded.

"If Hochstetter dressed like Corporal Klinger¹…"

"No! Stop! The power of Christ compels you!" someone else exclaimed.

"If Hochstetter sniffed glue and Sharpie markers…"

"I demand you to stop at once!" Harry ordered. ShadowHawk looked at the judge and got another idea.

"If Hochstetter was a lawyer… or a defense attorney…"

"It never ends!" LeBeau sobbed.

"If Hochstetter was an astronaut…"

"_Mein Gott_…" Hochstetter moaned as the girl poked him again and again. "_Was hab ich gemacht_???"²

_______________________  
1) Corporal Klinger was a character from M*A*S*H who is probably best known for trying to get a Section 8 by wearing dresses. One of my personal favorites was when he tried going A.W.O.L. (or, desert the army, for those of you who aren't familiar with the term) as "the big red bird with fuzzy pink feet." That was freakin' hilarious!

2) Translation: "My God… What have I done???"

A/N: Yeah… I think this was a lot better than the original…


	24. Robin is Recalled to the Stand

Robin is Recalled to the Stand

* * * * * *

I hugged Kathy as she came down off the witness stand and sent her home to her new grandbaby, Sophia. I managed to get through the line at the ladies loo and back into the courtroom as Bull announced the return of the Judge.

Judge Harry Stone looked around his courtroom to make sure that all necessary parties were in attendance. Once satisfied he called the room to order and me to the witness box.

"Just a reminder, Ms. Margolin, you are still under oath," he said.

"Yes, your honor."

"Mr. Mason, as Ms. Margolin is a defendant you will put your questions to her first," Judge Harry pronounced.

"Thank you, your honor." Perry Mason stood and buttoned his jacket as he approached me. "Ms. Margolin, Robin, thank you for your assistance in finding your partner for the court."

"No problem." I smiled at his formality.

"I asked her so now I'll ask you, why did you refuse to answer questions about The Many Deaths of Wolfgang Hochstetter before?"

"As Kathy said, we wrote it together, first creating the list of ways to do away with the horrid Nazi; then Kathy wrote each scenario, just a skeleton, and I added the meat to each one. But I disagree with Kathy in one item. She stated that I am the better writer. I'm not, I'm just more skilled at prose and dialog. Kathy is the idea woman and poet."

"So would it be fair to say that, for this story, you were more of an editor for Kathy rather than an author?" Mason seized on an idea.

I saw where Mason wanted to go, I didn't want to go there. "I helped create the initial list of deaths. At least one third of them were my idea, so no I don't think it's fair to say that I was less of an author in this story." Mason did not look happy with my response. Tough noogies.

"Of the twenty scenarios, how many were actual murders?"

"None were premeditated murders, a few were 'spur of the moment' killings, some were accidental death at someone's hands and some were 'wrong place-wrong time' deaths."

"Thank you, Robin," Mason finished with me. "No further questions at this time, your honor," Mason stated as he returned to his table.

"Your witness, Mr. Riker."

Commander Riker was reading something as he stood and acknowledged the judge. He continued to scan the paper for a few more seconds before he returned it to his desk and approached the witness box.

"Earlier I asked you what you had against Major Hochstetter and you replied …"

"I said, 'other than the fact that he's a Nazi pig, nothing.' I do recall that, Commander."

Riker smiled at me, like a spider baiting a fly. "You and Kathy have both testified that each of you is partially responsible for creating the myriad of deaths you put him through."

"OBJECTION!" Mason shouted. "The Major is seated right here and is obviously alive. In addition, the counsel is making statements and repeating testimony already in evidence instead of asking my client a question."

"I am trying to get there, your honor," Riker stated with exasperation.

"Overruled, but do get on with it, Commander," the judge said.

Riker turned back to me. "Which scenarios began as your ideas and which were your partner's?"

"Mmm, let me think."

Riker waited a moment; then went to his desk. "Perhaps this will help." From his desk he pulled a piece of paper and handed it to me. Mason objected again and Riker gave copies to both Mason and the Judge. The paper was the chapter list from Killing Wolfie.

Judge Harry instructed me to answer. Looking over the list I said, "In order, I'm directly responsible for the tanks, his mother, Hogan in the pub, Schultz saving Heidi, Louis's chicken dinner, the heart attack and Klink growing a pair."

Laughter erupted in the courtroom especially from the prisoners. BANG the gavel came down.

I continued, "Kathy was directly responsible for the freezer, the cyanide, the train, the truck, the safe, the Gestapo, Tiger, the tunnel and Colonel Edelmann, I think. When we came up with the list it was hard to tell where one of us began and the other ended."

"Explain," Riker requested.

"Well, for instance, for the first scenario, Kathy came up with Hochstetter being caught in the building he set on fire and I suggested it be Kristallnacht. I suggested that somehow Wolfie died while saving Hogan and Kathy came up with the stabbing. We were able to allow each of our heroes their own place in the removal of Hochstetter from the scene."

"And the Colonel twice," Andrew Carter's voice sounded from the front row. A chuckle went around the courtroom.

"You find this FUNNY?!" Major Hochstetter was incensed. "Everyone gets their chance to kill me …"

"Even me!" the Kommandant beamed.

"Even Klink!" Hochstetter continued to shriek.

"Not everyone got their chance, Major," a sour-voiced, porcine-faced general intoned.

BANG! Bang! Bang! Harry Stone's gavel came down repeatedly. "Will all of you SHUT UP!"

In the gravely silent courtroom, Major Hochstetter added names to the ever growing list in his pocket.

Smugly smiling still Riker asked, "Which was your favorite scenario to write and why? It's only fair to ask you as well as your partner."

"I enjoyed showing how often Major Hochstetter is hoisted on his own petard in these scenarios. I loved the tanks. There was something so right about squishing this pompous ant under a fabulous Panzer." I can't help the gleeful tone in my voice and the huge grin on my face. My lawyer stared at me, hard. I restored my poker face as I continued. "My absolute favorite one is Scenario 15."

"Scenario 15?" Riker questioned.

"May I Drive You Home? was the longest scenario and the most fun to write. I got permission from her creator to borrow Katinka Kordeva for the occasion. In this one, his lust for an entertainer and his own prejudices caused his death." Deep in the gallery, Corporal Langenscheidt shifted in his seat.

"What else did you enjoy about writing all these deaths for the Major?" Riker probed.

"I like the scenes where he dies because of his own tunnel-vision. He commits arson and gets caught in the fire. He badgers a hotel clerk about his briefcase and ends up with his empty satchel on his lap. He goes tearing into Barracks 2 and falls down a ladder. I think the most telling part of The Interrogation is the final statement. Just how delusional is this character that his dying cry is 'NO ONE WILL KILL HOGAN BUT ME!'? How self righteous can he be?"

Mason looked like he wanted to throttle me. I knew I just gave Riker lots and lots of rope to hang me with. For this case, I hoped he was a gentleman as well as an officer. Personally, I hoped he wasn't pissed that I never wrote any slash for him. I took a deep cleansing breath and waited.

Riker walked back to his table before he spoke again. "You are a liar," he vehemently accused.

I reeled as if physically struck. "What?"

"In earlier testimony you said, and I quote, I don't do death well. It's not my forte, unquote." He stared those radiant blue eyes at me. "You do death very well. No further questions, your honor."


	25. Snooky is Recalled, Part 1

Snooky is Recalled, Part 1

* * * * * *

Mason had digested Susan's information and had quickly assigned a trusted associate the task of gathering evidence to back up her theory. Armed with these findings, he decided to recall the remorseful author to the stand.

Unfortunately, Riker got to her first.

"Judge, I would like to recall our very first defendant, Miss Snooky."

Mason quickly countered. "I was about to make the same request, Judge. I'm her attorney. I should get to go first!"

Harry, who was secretly filling-in-the-blanks in a Mad Libs hidden beneath his desk, realized he needed to make a Solomon-like decision to settle this miniscule dispute.

"Rock, paper, scissors, Gentlemen."

"What!" Mason and Riker both shouted at the same time.

"Fairest way," Harry answered. "Besides, I don't have any coins to toss."

The two attorneys grudgingly performed the silly exercise, with Riker (having the quicker reflexes) the winner. He went first.

"Miss Snooky, I have a witness who will attest to the fact you attempted to bribe the plaintiffs!"

"I what?" Susan was stunned. The rest of the defendants turned their heads and looked at the petite and normally quiet author in amazement.

"According to Corporal Langenscheidt, a guard at Stalag 13, you attempted to gain Peter Newkirk's attention in the courtroom during an earlier break and you were seen passing him gifts in order to gain access to him, the rest of the men and Colonel Hogan. You then met with the five men out in the lobby for approximately one hour and you were seen reminding Corporal Newkirk to not forget the aforementioned gifts."

"Karl, how could you? Snooky wouldn't do that, she's my friend." Margherita gave her favorite character a stern look.

"No way. What did she give them? Money? A weekend pass?" Speculation started running rampant throughout the courtroom.

Riker smiled at the now utterly flabbergasted defendant. "Do you have an explanation?"

"I gave Peter some tea!" she stammered out. "He looked stressed and cold and he had been shivering, so I thought he needed a nice cup of tea! That's all, honest. Oh and I gave him a pot to make it in."

"That's the God's honest truth Commander. That's all she gave me!" Newkirk attempted to defend the author. He had developed a soft spot for the woman.

"If all you gave him was some tea, and let me tell you, Judge, this interaction between defendants and the plaintiffs is becoming annoying and could be grounds for a mistrial, then how do you explain the hour spent chatting over coffee and kanoodling with the Colonel?"

_Kanoodling? _ColHogan, who was again sitting next to Hogan, was not happy to hear this, not happy at all.

On one hand, Susan was sympathetic to Hogan and his posse, but on the other hand, she was now in a heap of trouble, or so she thought. And now her fellow author and e-mail buddy was giving her the evil eye?

"I was taken to the coffee bar in the lobby against my will." _Tell the truth? Sure, why not?_

"Taken to the coffee bar in the lobby against your will?" Riker repeated. He rolled his eyes. "How?"

"They," she pointed to Hogan and his posse, "stole my laptop and held it hostage."

The courtroom erupted in laughter.

"How," Riker was trying not to laugh. "How could five guarded prisoners force you out of the courtroom and into the lobby?"

Now Susan faced a conundrum. All the defendants knew darn well the heroes had access to weapons. But, if she told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, their operation could be compromised. Hochstetter had already been seen taking copious notes. She noticed Hogan leaning forward in his seat. Was that Newkirk pleading with her to remain silent? Nervous, she started twirling her rings and then made her decision.

"Somehow, around the time I gave Newkirk the tea, he lifted my computer and threatened to damage it, unless I followed him into the lobby. He said the Colonel wanted to speak with me. I had to do it, you see, the computer is from work. It's not really mine."

Hogan let out a sigh of relief and gave her a wink. ColHogan poked him in the ribs, which unfortunately, were starting to get real sore. He winced, a sight which did not go unnoticed by most of the authors.

"They threatened to damage your computer?" Riker asked.

"Riker, do you always have to repeat everything she says? We can hear." Harry was getting impatient. He added computer as a noun to his Mad-Lib.

"Sorry, Judge." Riker turned back to the defendant. "So you followed Newkirk out to the lobby and according to the guard, sat down with five prisoners around a small table situated outside the coffee bar."

"That's exactly right. Except, Carter and LeBeau took our orders and went up to buy the coffee."

"They bought you a cup of coffee? That doesn't sound like a group of men that was holding your computer hostage and forced you to come with them."

Susan thought fast. "They wanted me to calm down, so I would show them the fanfiction site. They needed my password." _Another white lie. _

"I see." Riker turned to the Judge. "Security cameras were on in the lobby, so if need be, we can retrieve the images, but I'd like to give the witness a chance to explain what happened next."

"Go ahead, but I'll order the tapes, just in case." Harry turned to Bull and asked him to contact building security.

"Our witness claims he noticed you guiding the Colonel's hand over the computer touchpad. By this time, you were both seated next to each other, pretty closely, I believe."

Mason shouted an objection. "Those tables are notoriously small, Judge, and the plaintiff would have needed instruction in how to use the computer."

"Sustained."

"So, you gave them your password to the fanfiction site? What did they do once they had the password?"

"It was actually Sergeant Kinchloe that was handling the computer at this point," Susan recalled. "We were all watching. He entered the site. Colonel Hogan started asking lots of questions. I tried to answer them as best as I could."

"What kind of questions?" Riker asked.

"Like, how long the site had been there. Why the bad side effects from the stories seemed to be decreasing. Stuff like that."

"Sounds like normal curiosity on the part of the victims here." Riker concluded. "But, Miss Snooky, at one point, you and the Colonel seemed to get a lot closer. So close, in fact, it appeared you two may have engaged in more than just surfing the internet. Perhaps you were trying to make a deal?"

"No, I wasn't, I swear." Susan insisted. "He was asking me about the other authors. What I thought about their testimony and their excuses. He asked me to switch to the prosecution side. And then they started poking around my document manager."

"Oh, really?" Riker asked. "Do you have any proof the Colonel asked you to switch sides?"

"No, but I told him I wouldn't switch."

"I see." Riker thought for a moment, then rubbed his beard. "You were overheard reminding Newkirk to not forget to take his gift, and then moments later the guard heard you ask Colonel Hogan to remove your name from the defendant's list. True or false, Miss Snooky."

"True." She said softly. "I was hoping they would because I said I was sorry. I promised not to kill any one off again."

"So you admit, you tried to bribe the plaintiffs!" Riker shouted.

"Objection!" Mason yelled. "She already said she wasn't trying to bribe anyone. She just offered the Corporal a small gift."

"Overruled," Harry decided. "Answer the question, please." He used the word remorse to fill in another empty space.

"No, I most definitely did not try to bribe anyone, Commander Riker." Susan was now getting angry at the Starfleet officer. "You know, Commander, you are trying to put words in my mouth and that's not right. I'm not the only author making First Contact with the characters. Look!" She pointed at ColHogan.

"Ooh, Cat fight!!" A group of twenty –something male fans watching in the gallery leaned over the railing to get a better look.

"Out!" Harry shouted.

Susan wasn't done. "If it wasn't for people like me, you wouldn't be here. I've sat through every Trek marathon, watched every episode of every series and sat through every movie, including the awful ones. So you should really learn to be nicer to your fans, and, and, I think you should go back to your day job. Jeez." She sat back in the chair, crossed her arms and glared at the officer.

Sympathetic authors in the gallery and a few of the defendants yelled out support, while Hogan doubled over in laughter.

Harry banged his gavel. "Miss Snooky," he said sternly. "Control yourself or I'll have you charged with contempt!"

"Sorry," she murmured apologetically.

Mason spoke up. "My client hasn't been feeling too well, Judge. She regrets the statements."

Riker spoke up. "It's all right, Judge. I'm done questioning this author." He was secretly thrilled. Snooky's case didn't look too good.


	26. Snooky is Recalled, Part 2

Snooky is Recalled, Part 2

Author's Note: This chapter includes a shameless plug for two of my stories. If you read them, you'll get the references better! If you review them, I get extra royalties. (Yeah, right) Ha. Ha. Ha.

* * * * * *

Perry Mason approached the bench with trepidation. This defendant was giving him angst, never mind the plaintiffs. First she cried on the stand, confronted him about defense strategies, then actually came up with something useful, then flew off the handle. In addition, he now had to deal with possible witness tampering. He shook his head, took a deep breath and prayed.

"Miss Snooky, I understand you've been under the weather?"

"Yeah, my back's been acting up."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Now, let's get back to the tea." Mason rolled his eyes. "What prompted you to go home and bring back the tea, the pot and your laptop?"

"Well, I had to go home and let out my dog."

"That's true," Harry noted. "She asked my permission."

"That's right," Susan said. "And then, I got to thinking about how stressed Corporal Newkirk looked, especially at the beginning. You know, he didn't look well at all."

"He looks better now." Mason noted.

"Well, that's good then, but at the time, I kind of felt bad. You see we have something in common. My Dad grew up in the East End of London, where Peter's from. That's why I brought back the tea and the pot. I thought it would cheer him up."

"And what was his reaction, when you gave him the gift?" Mason asked.

"I think he was surprised and touched. We talked about my Dad a bit."

"Did Corporal Newkirk say anything to you about the improprieties involved with accepting a gift, or did he ask his C.O.'s permission?"

Susan thought for a second. "No, he didn't. I think Colonel Hogan may have already been heading out into the lobby, but I don't remember. He just thanked me and took the tea and the pot."

"Did you ever stop to think that giving this small, insignificant gift to the Corporal may have been wrong?"

"No," Snooky answered. "I was just being nice!"

"The Corporal took more than just the tea, didn't he?"

"Yes, Mr. Mason, he did. Somehow, he stole my laptop without me noticing."

"When did you find out it was missing?"

"Sergeant Carter told me to come with him out into the lobby. He informed me that Corporal Newkirk had the computer."

"Why did you bring the computer back with you?"

Susan needed to think about this. "I had noticed that some other defendants had their laptops. I think the one hanging out with Hochstetter for a while had hers. I brought it back to update my sister on the progress of the trial, and there was one other thing, Mr. Mason."

"Go on."

"I just felt like I needed it. This whole thing started with the fanfiction site. I wanted to see what was happening."

"There was another reason wasn't there?" Mason silently begged her to answer the question. It would help.

Susan looked at the defense attorney in confusion. For a split-second she couldn't remember the other reason she had brought the laptop back with her, then it hit her.

"I was afraid of something else happening," she said.

"What are you referring to?" Mason asked.

"I had posted part of a story recently, before this whole thing started, and the rest was in my document manager. I was afraid of it hitting the guys. I thought I could delete it before something happened, but I'm sorry to say, I was too late."

That statement hit the courtroom like a ton of bricks. Reporters started checking the site to find the offending chapters, while spectators kept their eyes plastered on the heroes hoping to witness some kind of catastrophe.

Mason, the Judge, and Riker glanced at the heroes. So far, they looked fine. The Germans were also scanning the Allied area.

Mason asked, "Can you please enlighten us as to what harm has befallen the plaintiffs this time?"

Susan looked over at the remaining Allies. Hogan was nervously running his hand through his hair. The rest were at the edge of their seats.

"I prefer not to answer that question Mr. Mason. The only thing I'm willing to say, is that I did not kill the Colonel or any of his staff."

Riker jumped up. "Judge, on behalf of the plaintiffs, I think you should order this defendant to answer the question."

Susan turned to the Judge. "I will not answer the question. What's in my document manager is my personal business and revealing certain details in this story would not be in the best interest of the plaintiffs. I swear."

Harry put his Mad-Libs away and mulled over the situation. "There was certain information kept secret in the hearings, as well. I'll tell you what. I will meet with the witness and her attorney privately. You too, Riker. I'll decide whether she should answer the question. You three come with me. Miss, bring your laptop. Fifteen minute recess." He banged his gavel and took Mason, Riker and Susan into his chambers.

"Colonel, if she talks in front of Burkhalter and Hochstetter, we're gonna be in a heap of trouble."

"I know, Carter, I know." Hogan had not seen the story now being discussed in Harry's chambers, but his men had read the posted portions as well as the chapters waiting to be downloaded in the document manager. They had informed the Colonel of the plot after their notorious coffee break had concluded. Hogan was not angry with the author. After all, the date showed the story had been posted before she had received her subpoena. But the knowledge of what was to come was causing a migraine. This, piled upon his cut wrists, sore sternum, tight chest and other assorted maladies, was again beginning to take a toll. He vaguely wondered if his reboot was beginning to fail. Either that or he had too much to drink the previous evening during his little rendezvous with the other writer.

"It was courageous of her to stand up to Mason like that, mon Colonel." LeBeau's opinion of Snooky was softening a bit as well.

"Yes, it was. She's already in trouble for giving that tea to Newkirk and now she could be charged with contempt if she doesn't answer the question." Hogan's brain was now being consumed with too many issues at once. Unfinished stories, too much time between updates, new adventures, trial details…too much was piling up. He really needed a vacation.

"I'm surprised you couldn't turn her, Colonel. You would think with that avatar, it would have been a piece of pie."

"Cake, Carter."

"Sorry, sir."

"I would have made a second dinner, Colonel."

Visions of two jealous authors duking it out in the tunnels underneath Barracks two immediately entered Hogan's brain. He quickly tossed aside that picture.

"No, Louis. No more of these women back at the barracks. Besides, she's married. I just hope the Judge has the sense to keep the storyline secret."

"If not, then what?" Kinch asked.

"Like Carter says, we're in a heap of trouble." Hogan felt doomed one way or the other. Frankly, he was beginning to wonder if being executed wasn't so bad after all. At least it was quick.

"All right. Boot that puppy up." Judge Harry had settled himself comfortably in his chair. Susan signed on and then gazed around a room that she hadn't seen in over twenty years. It looked comfortably familiar. She vowed to rent the _Night Court _DVDs when she got home.

"Show me the story," Harry ordered.

"Here it is." She pointed at the screen. "These are the first few chapters. That's as far as I got before the trial. The last chapters are stored in my document manager."

"Okey Dokey. Let's see what all the fuss is about." Harry began to read, while Mason and Riker looked over his shoulder. Fortunately, the story was only six chapters long so it took no time for the three men to finish.

"Whoa." Harry exclaimed. "Nice reviews."

"Thanks," Susan replied.

"I can see where this might cause a problem, especially since Burkhalter and Hochstetter are in the courtroom."

"You're right, Judge." Riker agreed. He still had to watch out for the safety of his clients. "They'd have Hogan's head on a platter."He then became angry. "Judge, this is just another example of these authors playing games with these men and causing them irreparable physical and emotional trauma!"

"Riker, they weren't hurt!" Mason retorted.

"Yes, but to go through that in the first few chapters, then this!" Riker pointed to the later chapters. "Come on, Counselor. How can you say they weren't hurt?" He then turned his attention to Susan.

"First you write a massacre, and then you pull this! What is wrong with you?"

_Oy, do I have to go through this again_? Susan started talking to the Commander, slowly. "There is nothing wrong with me Riker. I told you, I didn't know these things would harm the characters. If I had I wouldn't have done it. I tried to stop this one, but I was too late. You don't listen, do you? And furthermore, I've never written anything creative before and I think I did a fine job on this story and the other one… and you know what? I'm not ashamed of either of them!"

"Mason, please control your client!"

"Stop!" Mason grabbed her hand. "You're making it worse for yourself. You want criminal charges on top of the civil?"

"Thank you. Now, listen. This information seems too dangerous to reveal," Harry declared. He grabbed a yo-yo and ushered the author and two counselors back into the courtroom.

"The defendant does not have to reveal the information," Harry announced.

"Phew." Hogan relaxed, while Hochstetter fumed. Mason then resumed his questioning.

"So you were willing to delete your own creative work in order to save the plaintiffs further harm or stress?"

"Yes." Susan answered.

Mason continued, "And despite the fact that these men are suing you and these other fine authors, you gave an unsolicited gift to one of the plaintiffs and expected nothing in return?"

"Yes."

"What did the plaintiffs do exactly when they had access to your laptop?"

"Like I said, they checked the site. First they looked at my files and folders. They weren't familiar with laptops, you know. But then they pulled up the site."

"Getting back to the fanfiction site, do you know what they were looking for?"

"No, I think they just wanted to see how it worked, who was updating, stuff like that."

"Did they ask for your help in navigating the site?"

"Yes. Colonel Hogan asked me how long the site had been operating. I said I didn't know, so I showed them how to get to the last page."

"And what did you find on the last page?"

"Oh, the very first story. It was published way back in 1999."

"Did any of the men make a comment about that first story?"

"Yes! They said they remembered it. They somehow met Mrs. Schultz at a Christmas ball. It happened right after they tried to start an avalanche by playing Cherokee in a jam session."

Titters and giggles could be heard throughout the court as spectators recalled the episode.

"Achoo!" Klink sneezed.

"Gesundeidt!" Mason said.

Mason returned to his client. "I'm sorry, could you repeat what you said?"

"The story involved a mission where they somehow met Mrs. Schultz at a Christmas ball. It happened right after they tried to start an avalanche with a jam session."

"This jam session occurred in an episode."

"Yes. _Look at All the Snowflakes._ From the last season in 1971. It was the very last episode filmed."

Suddenly, several of the defendants looked at one another and began talking quietly. A few looked startled. Other spectators, as well, suddenly grasped the importance of what Susan had just relayed. Murmurs began to be heard the courtroom.

Mason continued his line of questioning. "Let me see if I understood you correctly. Their first recollection after the last episode was the story listed on page one?"

"Yes, and then Colonel Hogan said their next mission was the second story."

"What did they do in between?"

"Nothing, I think. They went right from the avalanche to the ball."

"The show went off the air in 1971, then for 29 years, Stalag 13 lay dormant, and then in 1999, the action started again when a story was published on the _Hogan Heroes_ board of the fanfiction site."

You said that Mr. Mason, I didn't." Susan was not about to get involved in any further sci-fi, planes of existence, other universe, mumbo jumbo. "I just repeated what the heroes said when they saw the story listing on the site."

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau whispered. Kinch, Carter and Newkirk sat dumbfounded, not sure if they had heard Mason correctly. Hogan's mind was reeling. "Could it be true?" He thought. "Are these people responsible for our existence?"

Finally Newkirk managed to croak a single sentence. "Looking back, sir, I think stealing that bird's laptop was a bad idea."

Riker, who was seated at the prosecution table, was hastily sending a message back up to his ship.

Mason waited several seconds for the courtroom to digest this information. He then turned to the judge. "Judge Stone, my associates interviewed prisoners at Stalag 13. I have affidavits here that back up Miss Snooky's story and Colonel Hogan's recollection of events.

Mason then dumped a load of files onto Harry's desk.

"When did they do that?" Hogan had no idea how he had missed hearing about the interviews.

"That sneak!" Newkirk exclaimed.

Klink was confused. "Well this is an interesting turn of events, isn't it General?"

"Klink, this doesn't look good for our side either."

"No, it doesn't look good for our side, General."

"Perhaps you ought to be wondering how your prisoners got into the Christmas ball?" Hochstetter sneered.

Klink had no comment. He slid down in his seat and tried to make himself invisible.

Harry was distracted. This trial sure had its ups and downs, just like his yo-yo. He came back to earth and took control.

"I'll examine this evidence, Mason and then report to the jury. Are you done with your client?"

"Yes, your honor."

"Riker, do you want to redirect?"

"No sir."

"Thank you, Miss Snooky. You may step down and please, no more gifts to the characters."

Susan, now feeling totally vindicated, stepped down, flashed Hogan a smile and again took her seat. Hogan was now thoroughly confused. Mason's next announcement made him feel sick. "The court would like to recall Colonel Hogan to the stand."


	27. Hogan is recalled to the Stand

Poor Hogan is recalled, yet again

Submitted by Snooky

* * * * * *

_Cripes, Not again. _Hogan now had to struggle to get up off the bench and head to the stand. He was dizzy and nauseous, and he had the vague impression that he had been shot. _No, this is definitely not the wine,_ he thought. He flopped himself down in the chair and gave Mason a look of exasperation.

The judge looked at him sympathetically. "Colonel, remember you are still under oath."

"Whatever, can we just get this over with?" Hogan was getting testy.

"Colonel, this is a follow-up to Snooky's testimony. She claims that one of your men stole her laptop and, in fear of losing her property, she agreed to meet with you and your men in the lobby over coffee."

"Café Mocha." Hogan corrected the attorney. "I couldn't find just plain, real, coffee."

"Oh, so you do admit it, Colonel?"

"I ordered it. My men had nothing to do with it. I take full responsibility!"

"Colonel, are you aware that pick pocketing someone's laptop is a criminal offense in this state?"

"Objection!" Riker shouted. "For criminal purposes, Colonel Hogan does not fall under this jurisdiction. He's still a prisoner."

"But it happened here, Judge!" Mason retorted.

Klink stood up. "He's under the protection of the Luftwaffe! And in that case, I should be the one inflicting punishment." He shook his fist. "HoogAAAN! Thirty days in the cooler for stealing the Fraulein's laptop."

"You wouldn't dare!" Hogan shouted back at Klink. _Actually, I could use a break._

"Try me." Klink answered back.

"Order, Order! Both of you knock it off." Everyone quieted down. "Now, let me see if I have this straight," Harry said. "The defendant, there," he pointed at Snooky, "Who allegedly victimized the plaintiff or victim, here," he pointed at Hogan, "Is now accusing the victim of victimizing her when he took her property and physically forced her to sit with him at a coffee bar, whereby the plaintiff- him, asked the defendant, her, who is now a victim, to assist the plaintiff with investigating the actions of the other defendants, who used the site they were investigating to victimize the plaintiffs?"

"Huh?" This was uttered in unison by everyone in the courtroom.

Snooky stood up. "Let's forget about it. I'm not pressing charges. I got the computer back. They were just curious, that's all." _I had a real nice time being forced to sit with the Colonel._

"Is that true Colonel?" Mason asked.

"Yes, wouldn't you be curious?"

"Fine," Mason said. "I just had to address it. Let's move on. Snooky stated in her testimony that you and your men admitted to not having any recollection of events in between the snowflake episode and the Christmas ball detailed in the first story; that the ball occurred right after your attempt to start an avalanche. Is her recollection correct or do you deny it?"

Hogan began to maul his crush cap. All he wanted to do at this point was lay down. But he had taken an oath and he fervently believed in the American justice system. "Yes, her recollection is true. That's what we said."

"What do you think that means, Colonel?" Mason gently asked.

"Objection. Colonel Hogan is not qualified to offer an opinion on metaphysical phenomena or the meaning of life, and as it would just be his opinion, it's not admissible. We need facts."

"Douglas Adams would have enjoyed this, Sir." Bull missed the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy _author.

"He sure would have, Bull. Oh, sustained, Commander Riker."

Mason was done. "That's all I have, Judge."

"Commander, do you have any questions for the Colonel?"

"No, I think the Colonel needs a break and maybe a medic." Wilson was already tending to Newkirk and Kinch, who were again passed out on the floor.

"Fifteen minutes, then." Harry addressed the defense attorney. "Mason, is your next witness ready?"

"Yes, your honor. He's on his way. I made sure he's been kept on a tight leash, so he doesn't run off."


	28. Snoopy's Testimony, by Me

Snoopy's Testimony

By Me

* * * * * *

"I believe it is time to call another ace, this one from World War One. One who has some insight into the character of those who write these fics. I call to the witness stand...Snoopy!"

Gasps filled the courtroom as the dog, in his World War One outfit, approached the bench. "Your honor, I object, the witness is not even human!" Riker exploded.

"Neither is Hochstetter, and he testified," Hogan quipped. Hochstetter glared daggers at him.

"Silence!" the judge looked oddly at Mason. "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but this had better be good. I'm giving you a very short leash." The courtroom emitted a low, collective groan. "I can't believe I just made such a bad pun."

"Please state your name."

"Snoopy."

"And, are you a fictional character from the world of 'Peanuts'?"

"Yes, I am."

"Snoopy, you took part in a seminar recorded in the archives wherein the nature of fanfiction characters was discussed, did you not?" He had. "What was the nature, as stated in those proceedings?"

"They were considered to be imaginary friends."

Perry grinned. "Snoopy, you can morph into many forms, can you not?" He agreed. "Can you give us an example?" Suddenly, the dog on the stand had on a hat and suit, picked up a briefcase, and referred to himself as the "World famous attorney." He then turned back into the WW I ace. "Thank you. Snoopy, when at the seminar, statements were made about the nature of an imaginary friend. Describe very briefly what those were."

"Certainly. Imaginary friends are those which are treated with care and compassion. We may suffer scrapes, such as my fights with the Red Baron, but, we don't actually suffer incredible emotional trauma, because a person would not do that to a friend," he concluded.

"So, is it fair to say that a person who caused a character to, say, suffer horribly does not view that character as a friend?"

"Not unless the character normally underwent such trauma."

"Can you give an example?"

Snoopy nodded. "I told the story of one Farley, a dog who died saving a little girl's life, in a parable using a World War One battle. There was angst, but nothing I wouldn't face normally. And, Farley met no worse of an end than in real life; that is, what to him was real life." (1)

"Thank you. So, in your estimation, would this show that an author, to consider you an imaginary friend, would have to use you in a somewhat similar way to how you've been used?" The dog agreed. "If that is the case, then doesn't it logically follow that if a person is using a character in a way that is totally different, say, much more agonizing than normal, that writer is not thinking of the character at all?"

"It would be fair to say, yes."

"In other words, if Defendants have used the characters of Hogan's Heroes in ways that seem malicious, it is because they are not thinking of the actual characters themselves, but only of near facsimiles? That the characters themselves would therefore have no standing, because they have not been harmed, they have not actually been the ones used by Defendants!"

"Yes, that is a logical argument," Snoopy said.

-----------------------------------------------  
(1) "Old Soldiers Never Die." -- On the Comics - Peanuts fanfiction site.


	29. An LA Prosecution Meeting, by Konarciq

An LA Prosecution Meeting

Submitted by Konarciq

* * * * * *

"Señor Fielding, could I see you for a moment?" Don Diego de la Vega gently pulled his temporary colleague over to a quiet table in the coffee corner.

"Is this about Mrs. Groundwater?" Dan Fielding guessed as he sat down.

"It is indeed." Don Diego gestured to the lady behind the counter for two coffee. "Unfortunately my client can´t be here in person today. But we had a lengthy conversation about your renewed interrogation of Señora Groundwater. And we feel there are still quite a few questions left unanswered. Would you mind taking those up with her the next time she´s called to the stand?"

Dan Fielding grinned. "Of course. I mean, that lady is so stubborn! She has all kinds of inventive excuses for her cruel actions, and yet she shows no intention of stopping them! It´s a disgrace!"

"Well, at least Señor Mason got her to say sorry for what she has done. That´s more than anyone could extract from her the first time. But that´s not the point. Here." He took out a folded paper and handed it over.

Fielding unfolded it, and frowned at the full written page. "Wow."

"First," it said, "Señora Groundwater is right in stating that there is little or no character development in the 168 episodes of the series. Nor is there any notable development in their relations to each other.

"But is that due to the shortness of the episodes?

"I say no!

"I (Margherita) know of several TV-series (sitcoms and others) of equal episode length, in which a clear character development takes place over the years.

"Take for example New World Zorro, of which my attorney is a part. For Don Diego, his masquerade starts off as a game – a serious game, but he has a lot of fun as well. As the years progress however, we see him getting more and more frustrated about being a coward in his father´s eyes. At the same time, his initial hide and seek game with Victoria Escalante grows into an increasing frustration about not being able to be with the woman he loves, and mostly having to deny his feelings for her – to the point where he hesitantly admits to her that he´s afraid that she´s in love with the hero, and that she won´t be able to love him as himself.

"At the same time we see Victoria mature from a swooning young lady to a fierce and loyal woman, who sticks to her resolve to wait for the unknown man of her choice – albeit under protest, for she´d much rather marry him today than tomorrow.

"Also, Felipe grows from an eager boy, through a somewhat rebellious teenager, into a young man who knows what he wants out of life. A young man wrestling with his childhood memories, and struggling to overcome the handicap that scarcely seemed to bother him in the beginning.

"And last but not least: Sergeant Mendoza´s mortal fear for Zorro gradually turns into admiration, friendship and later even into occasionally being Zorro´s ally and accomplice – which means defying all his Alcalde´s orders.

"And all that in a 20 minute series that lasted for about half the number of episodes of Hogan´s Heroes.

"I can give you more examples if you like, but clearly it being a less than 30 minute show should not stop characters from developing. That must have been a conscious choice of the producers of Hogan´s Heroes, or whoever is responsible for such.

"Second: Señora Groundwater seems to imply that her reason for torturing the men is to develop their characters and to explain their relationships. If so, I would very much like her to explain why a character can´t develop without torture. For if that is the case, then there must be millions, if not a billion people out there in the world with an "underdeveloped" character.

"Then a few questions. With canon peril regularly addressing serious topics (as Señora Groundwater states herself), then why not elaborate _that_ kind? Those eps keep you on the edge of your seat, but still no one gets tortured.

"Elaborating that kind of peril should give more than enough material for captivating stories exploring and developing people´s character. And of course one can branch out and be creative – but does it HAVE to be into inhuman torture?!

"I agree that Hogan´s Heroes runs equally well as drama as it does as comedy. And personally I love a good drama story. **But does drama necessarily equal torture?!**

"By the way: seeing that you are able to write lighter stories makes the remark about a story becoming a screenplay as soon as you stay within the realm of canon peril rather irrelevant. There are numerous good prose-stories that stay close to the original show´s comical drama angle, without them being a screenplay. Including some of your own.

"You seem to take this very black-and-white. Avoiding blow by blow descriptions of extended and horrid torture scenes is not the same as telling a story about "_light-hearted spies who can get out of most trouble in the blink of an eye or with a quick twist of fate_." I am not promoting to abolish drama – far from it. All I´m pleading for is to limit your torture scenes. And if you now _have_ to include them – to keep the descriptions within humane bounds.

"And the fact that the heroes always win, and that you write lighter, gentler stories as well, does not acquit you from the crimes you and other authors have committed to these men. May I remind you – without any intention of taking the comparison too far – that even Adolf Hitler did some really good things for Germany before the war? He was the one who ordered the network of Autobahns to be built all across the country – a network that even today is the well functioning backbone of the German motorized transportation. The building of these Autobahns consequently provided a job for many many thousands in a country that was already thoroughly impoverished _before_ the Krach in 1929. But does that acquit Hitler of the crimes he committed?

"No. And neither does a happy ending, a victory, a love-night, a full recovery or whatever good things authors have come out of their torture acquit them from committing the crime of torturing a character.

"You say words should never hurt them. But clearly they do hurt and come true in the men´s physical and psychological condition. All you have to do is reread the hearing-part of this trial to get proof for that fact.

"And that brings me back to my original statement: there is no reason why being of a different universe should deny a person that justice be done to him or her. So those who have tortured or killed these people with words that apparently, in some mysterious way come true in their lives, I think they should accept the consequences of their (written) behaviour. It doesn´t matter if you´ve given them pleasure as well; what counts in court is the fact that you hurt them. Badly. Very badly.

"And these incredibly brave men have as much right to justice as you would have – had the situation been vice versa."

Fielding nodded. "Interesting. Very interesting. I shall see what I can do, Señor."


	30. L J Groundwater is Recalled Again

L J Groundwater is Recalled – Again!

* * * * * *

Linda heaved a resigned sigh as she again took the stand and nodded her understanding that she was still under oath. "What have I done now?" she asked. "Are you sure this trial is about everyone, and not just about me?"

Dan Fielding raised his eyebrows as he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, Mrs. Groundwater, the problem in your testimony really seems to be that you don't have any remorse about what you've done."

"What I've done?" Linda repeated. "Written fiction about a bunch of fictitious people? Why should I feel remorse about that?"

"Because you have men sitting in this very courtroom whose lives you have affected in some very deep and serious ways."

Linda looked over toward Hogan and his men, and for a moment she locked eyes with the Colonel, who seemed to be studying her, looking for some kind of understanding of her... _the way he'd study Klink when looking for his weak spot,_ she couldn't help thinking. Finally, she said, "I suppose that depends on your point of view," she said.

"Your point of view?" asked Fielding.

"I'm sitting in an absolute impossible scenario of a courtroom—heck, we just had a talking dog testify—and if you want to get into the idea of canon or not, Snoopy, even in his reality, never spoke—talking about the rights of _fictional _characters to justice in their universe!"

"Does the fact that they're fictional give them any less right to justice?"

"Yes." A murmur rippled through the courtroom. "But then, none of us in the real world get justice all the time either. Ask the millions killed in concentration camps, in Darfur, in the ghettos of overcrowded, poor cities. Ask the people who live in lower-quality homes, with low-paying jobs, with _no_ jobs. People who've done no wrong in this life see no more justice than anyone else. Does that mean that we as writers are forced to make life fair for everyone we write for?" Linda couldn't help a scoff. "I should think not."

Dan cleared his throat. He hated when this author made a point, especially one that he couldn't rebut. "Do you have to use torture to accomplish this, though? It seems that there are other ways possible to show that life is unfair."

"Okay, so where would you like me to accomplish this with these characters? Yes, they have more contact with the outside world. But on the whole, they're stuck making contact with people who aren't really nice. The Gestapo, the SS, even members of the Luftwaffe—Klink and Schultz aside, of course—" The two men mentioned sat up straighter in their seats, and Klink beamed so much that Linda could see it from her seat at the witness stand. "—these were not people whose idea of unfairness was taking away a Red Cross candy bar. These were not people who would just ask nicely and then walk away. These were cold, vicious people. Oh, yes, occasionally we'd see a soft spot, like when Major Hochstetter thought the war was over and he let the leaders of the Underground take his car and leave camp..."

Hochstetter shrunk down lower in his seat and growled softly as Burkhalter glared at him.

"... but really, overall, these were their not-so-nice contacts. I could have Hogan build up a nice friendship and have someone blow it on him. I could have one of the men meet a girl and go through the angst of not getting to see her regularly... but would that be any better? Or I could bury them in tunnels, have them pretend to be shot, have them blackmailed, lost, or sick as a dog..."

"But torture?" Dan pressed.

"If you can't stomach physical torture, don't face the Gestapo. That was the reality for a lot of people, Mr. Fielding. I'm not going to ignore it."

"She's right, you know, Newkirk," whispered Carter. "I mean, I hate the Gestapo, but gee, if I had to feel again like I felt when Mary Jane sent me a Dear John letter, well, heck, I'd almost rather face them again, at least for a day or two."

"Let's not even go there, Carter," said Newkirk. "What about when I brought that bird back to camp and she turned out to _be_ Gestapo?" He shook his head.

"Yeah," Kinch whispered toward him. "That was dumb—you could have gotten us all killed."

"I know, _I know!_" Newkirk said.

"Sh!" Hogan ordered. "Pipe down and listen."

"What about the fact that other shows have lasted shorter periods and developed their characters more fully?" Dan asked.

Linda shrugged. "Writers' choice," she replied. "If the people who wrote _Hogan's Heroes_ didn't want to develop their characters during the series, that's fine. But others certainly have developed them since then. And as another witness pointed out—they weren't even active for about twenty-eight years, not publicly."

"So you justify harming these men because you feel responsible for bringing them back to life?"

Linda smiled. "You're very coy, Mr. Fielding. I never said I was responsible for bringing them back to life. And I feel justified in writing fiction because everyone has a right to do it in whatever way they choose. Those who wish to read it will, those who don't wish to read it won't. Those whose lives are affected—well, as I've said..."

"You don't see them as real."

"Of course not. They are—"

"That will be all."

Linda raised an eyebrow but said nothing at the interruption.

Harry looked to Michael Kuzak. "Counselor, redirect?"

"Absolutely, Your Honor."

Kuzak straightened his jacket and smiled at his client. "Hello, Linda."

Linda smiled right back. She liked Kuzak. "Hello, Micky."

"Linda, you say you don't see the men sitting in this courtroom as real."

"That is correct."

"What are they to you?"

Kuzak smiled toward Dan Fielding. If the prosecutor wouldn't let her speak, her defense attorney certainly would.

"They are ideals. They are representations of all the brave people who fought in World War Two and in other battles, both public and private. I'd like to think people with their character and moral standing could be my friends. But as much as I love these characters, I don't think of them as my friends."

Carter frowned. "_I'd_ be her friend," he mumbled.

"Linda, how would you feel if someone treated you the way you treat these characters?"

Linda scrunched up her face, thinking. "She looks like _you_ do when _you_ think, _Colonel_!" chuckled Le Beau. Hogan tossed him a look, but said nothing.

"Well, if it was in my _real_ life, I'd be pretty unhappy!" A couple of giggles in the courtroom. "But if it was in a story, I'd really only be looking to see if they were taking a personal swipe at me. Otherwise, I wouldn't worry. It'd just be a story, after all."

"The prosecution is arguing, though, Linda, that these people are real, and that you are doing them harm."

"I know. That's the part I have trouble with. I don't think I'm doing them harm. They are fictional. They bounce back from everything. They go from one story to another—one _author_ to another might be a more correct term—with no recollection of what happened to them from one story to another. I think the problem here really is that some people don't like reading it.

"But then, that's why the library is so big. Not everyone likes reading the same thing. If they don't like one author, or genre, or story, they can move on to another. That is no less true of fanfiction than it is of any other type of writing. I don't feel the need to justify the way and the reason I write. I have done so, but I don't have to. I write what I write because I want to; others write what they write because _they_ want to. I feel no more guilty or responsible for what I do to these characters than anyone else should just because they give them children and Mary Sues and straight stories and comedies. And shall we go into the whole idea of _slash_ and what _that_ might be doing to these people? Writing is writing. It just _is_. Putting people on trial because of what they do to the characters is like taking Shakespeare and slapping him around for writing _Macbeth_. Anyone want to talk about the unfairness of the Bard to _his_ characters?"

"Are you comparing yourself to Shakespeare?"

Linda smiled. She loved how Kuzak always gave her a chance to make sure she didn't talk herself into a hole. "No, of course not. Not in quality, anyway. Just in the fact that we both write—wrote, in his case—and that the act of fairness to his characters wasn't really a major concern. Because they were characters. They weren't friends, and they weren't real in another universe. They were characters."

Kuzak smiled back at her. "You're living proof of this at the moment, aren't you?" he asked.

Linda nodded. "All the defendants are."

"You're all characters in this story."

"That's right," she said. "And anything anyone says _should_ be aimed at the overall story. I'm not jumping up and down because my testimony is being particularly taken to task. Because in this story, _I'm a character_."

"So any acrimony that's directed toward you here should be because of the story."

"Well if it's _not_, I'd like whoever feels peeved at me for _real_ to have the guts to speak to me directly," Linda challenged. "Though we'd have to agree to disagree, I'm afraid."

"You're not the only writer who has subjected the characters to physical difficulty, are you?" Kuzak asked.

"Certainly not!" Linda replied. Then, coolly, "I'm just the only one who's stood up and said, 'Hey, this is fiction. Get over it.'"

Kuzak suppressed a chuckle. "Indeed, it is," he said instead, smiling broadly. "I'm looking forward to reading the rest of your work, actually."

"Thank you. I enjoy learning from my own research—and turning that into something people can read... _if they so choose_."

"I have no further questions, Your Honor."

"Linda, you may step down."


	31. GSJessica Takes the Stand

GSJessica Takes the Stand

* * * * * *

GSJessica appeared distinctly nervous when escorted to the stand. Her eyes darted about as though trying to take in every part of the courtroom at once. This surprised many of the spectators as, when her fanfic history was spelled out to the court by the prosecution, it was emphasized she steered well clear of torture in her stories. Also she'd been quite composed, keeping a firm grip of herself, while spending months actually living in Nazi Germany, sharing a house with Olsen. Memory of that time apparently returning to him, Olsen looked at her fondly, giving a small wave.

So if it wasn't the 'usual suspects' of the accused fanfic writers—torture, angst, character death—making GSJessica uneasy, it must be her role in… wait for it… yes, there it was… Heinous Crime Number 1 in the fanfic 'verses:

Mary Sues.

"Oh, goodness, no!" GSJessica answered when Judge Stone asked. She peered around sharply, as though expecting a Gestapo agent to leap out at her from behind the witness stand.

"Then what is it?" Harry demanded (but with a soothing whine to his tone).

GSJessica stared at him as if he were mad. "I'm in _New York City!_" She scanned the room again. "And obviously a kind of skuzzy part of New York."

Harry grinned. "So you're less afraid of being in Nazi Germany than in New York City?"

Bull stepped forward toward GSJessica coming, as New Yorkers tended, far, far too close into her ample Mid-Western personal space. GSJessica leaned back away from the shiny head.

"Don't be afraid, ma'am," Bull intoned. "I'll protect you." His voice lowered, but inevitably remained loud enough for all the spectators to hear. "I hear you like tall bald men."

A snicker went around the courtroom. Memories obviously returning, Colonel Klink sat a bit straighter and beamed. Unheard whispered comments from Burkhalter and Hochstetter caused Klink's smile to fade a bit as he wilted back into his typical cringing posture.

GSJessica blushed, but thanked Bull in a deadpan voice. Harry banged his gavel.

The prosecutor rose and stepped toward her. A strange smile crept over GSJessica's face as she examined him, her eyes fixing on the shiny badge on his red and black uniform.

"Commander Riker," she said by way of greeting.

He nodded. "Mrs… uh… Mrs. Jessica? What is your full name, ma'am?" Riker asked.

"My full name is… not relevant to these proceedings. You may call me GSJessica, or just Jessica."

"What does the 'GS' mean?"

GSJessica answered, "Guildsister, as in Guildsister Jessica."

"That's not a Hogan's Heroes reference," Riker said, puzzled. "What guild does it refer to?"

"The Bene Gesserit." Riker's expression provided the question mark on his unspoken next question. GSJessica expanded upon her answer. "Bene Gesserit Guildsister Jessica Atreides. From 'Dune'."

Harry made an 'uck' sound. "That was a terrible movie," he inserted.

GSJessica gave him a cold look. "It was a brilliant _book_."

Riker gave an 'ah ha!'. "So you torture the brave cast of Hogan's Heroes with Mary Sues as retaliation against those young writers who don't read books but get all their fictional knowledge, and knowledge of life and historical context from television; who lack a grasp of sentence structure, paragraph construction, punctuation, and when challenged become arrogant and defensive. Is that correct?"

"Huh?" GSJessica answered eloquently. She shifted in her chair, checked behind it, then added, "I've got nothing against Mary Sue writers. I've complimented and encouraged several of them. I wrote _The Mary Sue Reports_ as a satirical jab not only to amuse the other writers—and myself—but possibly to make those dedicated Mary Sue writers actually see the stereotyped traits and patterns they're putting into their characters. _Showing_ them, rather than _telling_ them."

Bristling into attack mode, Riker stepped forward. "But in presenting this amusing 'lesson' you inflicted that most reviled of creatures upon these poor, brave men—" He gestured broadly toward Hogan and his men. They strove to look pathetic and hurt. It was less than successful as the impact of the ongoing pain and torture stories had faded and, for this session at least, they were firmly in the "GSJessica HHfic 'verse", which is to say, untortured and healthy… well, relatively. Hogan did clutch his stomach and cringe now and then.

Riker went on triumphantly. "—the loathed and hated _Mary Sue!_"

"So?"

"Did you miss the 'heinous', 'reviled', 'loathed', 'hated', and 'inflicted' part?" Riker insisted, but seemed a touch thrown.

"Oh, please," GSJessica said dismissively, "She was there only a short time. They had total control of her and the situation. They never fell for her 'charms'. She never had the upper hand. She never upstaged them. And Hogan ended up becoming quite wealthy after the war from the future stock market info he got from her gadgets."

Riker's face darkened and he spun toward the gallery. "Colonel Hogan! Manipulating time and the future? For shame!"

Hogan grinned broadly and shrugged. He pulled a suddenly discovered wad of hundred dollar bills out of his jacket pocket and handed a few… a very few… out to his men.

Across the way, Burkhalter whispered loudly, "I knew Hogan could be bought."

Trying to regroup, Riker glanced at his notes, then looked up fiercely. GSJessica was unperturbed. She'd never found Commander Riker to be fierce, imposing, or anything other than bland and somewhat smarmy… in a squooshy, overacted sort of way.

"Before we move on to your most horrific crime, let's backtrack to an issue mentioned before in this trial… the removal of evidence from the fanfiction archive!" Riker was the sort of person who used a lot of exclamation points when he spoke, one of the things GSJessica found irksome about him. "Why, exactly, did you remove_ Master Manipulator_ and most of your other stories from the site? What were you trying to hide?"

"Cripes," GSJessica said, "I didn't even think anyone would notice, much less make a fuss. That was a total surprise to me. My reasons… well, I'll take the Fifth on that."

"Meaning?"

"It's none of your business and doesn't impact this case," she said.

"Move along, Counselor," Harry interjected.

Riker returned to his table and glanced at his notes again. From the gallery, Hogan leaned forward to whisper to him. Two words: hurt and comfort.

"So you say, ma'am," Riker turned back toward the witness box, "That you never hurt nor tortured the characters…"

"Hochstetter never got in so much as a single slap," GSJessica interrupted. Hochstetter growled. She went on, "On purpose. I was trying to counter the spate of violent torture stories. Have drama and tension without going to that sort of extreme place. Do a story that's closer to what I call the 'baseline', keeping the events and characters close to what was in the show yet expanding upon them and giving backstory explanations."

"Is that also why you had Hogan speaking perfect German—possibly for the first time in that fandom—also having German relatives?" Riker asked with more curiosity than force. He seemed to have gotten off track. GSJessica had that effect sometimes, causing stories to seem to meander while still actually aiming toward an end goal.

"Yes," she answered. "The stories I had seen to that point often had Hogan speaking little, or poor, German yet managing to operate brilliantly. I've been there and I do speak the language so I know first-hand how easy it is to get over your head and be taken as a foreigner. In context of the show scenario he had to be perfectly fluent, so I emphasized that. And there was also a tendency, at the time I started posting _Master_ _Manipulator_, to attack Germans, all Germans, rather nastily. I wanted to blur that line and gray out the clear moral superiority of one side or the other. So Hogan was given German family and a history within the country. Both of these things have become mundane in stories since."

Riker nodded. "So, by your own testimony, you tried to counteract conventions and accepted standards in the stories… like the one where you repainted Hogan as a total fake and con artist…"

Hogan shrugged. "I rather liked that one."

Kinchloe said in a stage whisper, "I could totally believe that one."

Hogan scowled at Kinch.

Riker went on, "…yet you—by your own author's note words—indulged in some classic hurt-comfort! And in the process caused severe pain and injury to Colonel Hogan."

Hogan clutched his gut and bent double. GSJessica shrugged. "He threw the grenade."

"_You_ _wrote_ him throwing the grenade that filled his abdomen with shrapnel" Riker countered.

"Colonel Hogan," GSJessica addressed the gallery, "Would you have preferred the Germans machine gun Carter?"

Carter turned panicked eyes on his colonel. Hogan blanched. Riker shouted, "Objection!"

"Sustained," Harry intoned, banging his gavel mostly because he liked banging his gavel.

"Explain this hurt-comfort event, if you please," Riker demanded of GSJessica.

She smiled tightly. "Not writing for market, I can indulge whims. Again, I wanted to put an antithetical twist to a convention, the fanfic hurt-comfort. So I had the hurt but was minus on the comfort. Yet Klink and Hogan got some solid developing interaction. It was, in practical effect, a torture scene without the torture…"

"Speak for yourself," Hogan said.

"…which opened barriers between the characters, and lowered defenses. Yet it was not one character torturing another graphically and sadistically. It wasn't in there to titillate the audience with the cleverness of the amount and kind of abuse the author was able to contrive. I loathe that sort of thing, equating it sometimes to pornography—like rape being presented as sexy and hot rather than horrible and disgusting—when the author isn't trying to present the horrific as being awful but as being entertaining. That's what happens when 'whump' scenes are spelled out in loving, exacting, innovative detail. The physical unpleasantness in my 'hurt/comfort' scene was not graphic, and it was cut short and resolved quickly."

"Yes, well," Riker said, eyeing the jury one by one, "These twelve citizens will be the judge of that." He paused a long moment.

"If you have nothing further, we'll move on to the defense," Judge Stone said.

"There's still the most serious charge against this defendant, the unleashing of these fanfic authors upon the entire cast of Hogan's Heroes in _The Mary Sue Experiments!"_

"One moment, counselor," Judge Stone said.

There was a long pause in the proceedings as GSJessica consulted with Judge Stone. Finally he shrugged and said, "I'll allow it." He turned to address the courtroom. "As has been established previously, this defendant wishes to have an alternate defense attorney. Colonel Wilhelm Klink, please approach the bench."

In a whisper to Riker, the judge said with a grin, "I think the defense attorney will handle the rest of the prosecution for you nicely." Louder, he asked in an ordering sort of tone, "So, nothing further, Commander Riker?"

Riker shrugged. "Nothing further."

Looking startled, but somewhat eager, Klink approached, giving GSJessica a warm and… _ahem_… somewhat hopeful smile.

"Why on earth would you want him as your defense attorney?" someone in the courtroom wailed.

Without hesitation, GSJessica answered, "He's never lost a case."

"Dear girl!" Klink blurted.

"Wait a minute." Riker strode forward rapidly. "I have it on good authority—namely the author's own writing—that she and Colonel Klink have had an _intimate_ relationship."

The gasp that went around the courtroom was worthy of the most overly contrived Night Court moment.

"I'm impressed," Burkhalter said grudgingly.

"I'm repulsed," Hochstetter growled.

"I always knew there was something about her I didn't like about her," Hogan muttered. "Imagine her falling for _Klink_ instead of _me!_ She's deluded."

"Mad," LeBeau added loyally.

"'Round the bend," Newkirk said, but seemed more amused by Hogan's dismay.

"Well, the Kommandant is a handsome man," Carter judiciously allowed, "if you look at him the right way." Hogan glared at Carter.

Kinchloe just grinned.

Throughout, Klink preened and moved possessively closer to GSJessica. Authoritatively, he said, "Now, Liebling… I mean Frau Brosch, uh… _Jessica_, that is… I think this whole matter of _The Mary Sue Experiments_ can be settled swiftly, in that you actually created marvelous benefit to the entire staff of the Klink's Heroes, I mean the misnamed _Hogan's_ Heroes world."

"Objection!" Riker shouted. "The only benefit was to _you_, Kommandant. You got to look like a good… or at least not bad… guy, as you invariably do in GSJessica's stories. You were portrayed as reasonably charming, moderately intelligent, and not in the least sympathetic to the Nazis, not to mention sometimes helpful to Hogan and his men."

In the gallery, Hochstetter pulled out a notebook and began scribbling furiously.

"And in countering the slanders to my name and character, I submit this defendant corrected and restored proper balance and happiness to our world. In providing these wonderful ladies to our world, nothing but good came of it. And!" Klink paused for emphasis. "And! She actually made possible the bulk of the prosecution's case by 'outing', so to speak, many of the authors in question by revealing them and their true natures to Hogan and the rest of us." Klink turned theatrically, waving his arm in the air with triumph.

"Another objection!" Riker yelped. "Judge Stone, please rule."

Harry sat up abruptly. "Sorry. I was enjoying the show. Uh…. _Overruled?_ But move along, Colonel."

At a loss for where to go next, Klink leaned closer to GSJessica as she motioned to him. He nodded at her whispered suggestion, then stood straight again.

"So, tell me, Lieb… Jessica… um… what was it I was supposed to ask?" Klink turned back toward her.

"I should think a redirect to Colonel Hogan might be in order," GSJessica said. "I should like to hear Colonel Hogan testify as to how he thoroughly disliked me, who has never tortured him, in our face-to-face encounters, yet he most especially did like Linda Groundwater, finding her one of his favorites of the visiting authors, though she has tortured him repeatedly. I submit this case has no true merit on that basis alone." Not likely to work, GSJessica, knew, but she felt she had to throw that thought out.

Beaming, Klink spread his arms wide and announced, "The defense rests."

Before Judge Stone could bang his gavel on this session, GSJessica interrupted. "Just one more thing, please. I have a small demonstration I wish to make in my defense."

"I'll allow it," Harry said.

"If Commander Riker would be so kind as to step forward," GSJessica said, stepping out of the witness box. She stepped up close to Riker. "It has to do with the question of tall, balding men," GSJessica said, moving up close to Riker, peering upwards, seemingly at his full head of hair, but actually at his chest.

"It's just this…" she started. Then abruptly she slapped Riker's communicator badge, shouting, "Enterprise! Emergency. Two to beam up. Energize!" GSJessica flung herself tightly around Riker.

Through the shimmer and tinkling sound, the courtroom heard GSJessica say, "Always wanted to see the Enterprise."

From her end, as the New York City courtroom faded away, she heard a faint, "Liebli…" and "This is contempt…"


	32. Freedom of Speech and Artistic License

**Freedom of Speech and Artistic License**

**by**

**Jordre**

"I don't have time for this," I groaned when I found myself in the witness stand. "I hated it when I got tapped for jury duty; this is even worse." Well, Jake _had_ warned me this was likely to happen. For a moment, I actually resented her: She got to work with Hogan and his men, and I got stuck doing all the farm work alone while she was off playing in Germany. I, who had read "Escape from Colditz" _twelve times_ before I graduated high school; I, who took German for three semesters in college (and flunked the third) just so I could understand the dialogue in WWII movies—and _she_ got to go! Oh, the unfairness of it!

With a resigned sigh, I settled back to wait, looking around the courtroom to see who was there. I watched with some amusement as Hochstetter, Klink, and Burkhalter jumped to their feet and snapped to attention when General Mannheim came into the room—and Hogan cringed. It was certain Mannheim would have a few things to say to his bondsman when this was over. Newkirk and LeBeau exchanged slightly guilty looks.

At least I wasn't alone; there was Jake in the gallery with some of the writers, and I _really_ wanted to snicker when Hochstetter caught sight of her and crossed his legs. And my own attorney, Amos Burke, was conferring with Perry Mason. But since it was the prosecution that had called me in, Riker had the first shot.

"Isn't it true that, by the time you posted 'A Papa Bear of His Very Own,' you'd seen that a story has a very real, direct effect on its characters?"

"By the time I _posted_ it, sure, but I started putting that story together before GSJessica even posted the first chapter of 'The Mary Sue Experiments.' I was already well into the sequel by the time Jake got back."

"That was 'Eye-ties and Nazis and Bears, Oh My,' wasn't it?"

"Yup."

"After seeing how your roommate had been affected by her own writing, why did you continue?"

I had worked last night and was due in again tonight; it was 2 pm, and I hadn't been to bed yet. You _don't_ want to mess with me under those circumstances. I glared at him. "Maybe I should've just hanged everybody?"

Riker blinked. "Uh…excuse me?" he said, clearly confused.

"Well, I'd already hanged Hochstetter; surely you didn't want me to hang the guys. That would've been…excessive, and totally unnecessary. Besides, it would've been outside the parameters of the story cycle's premise."

"Story _cycle?"_

"There are…" I trailed off and started counting on my fingers. "Southern Wind, Catch a Rat, Kats and Dogs, _Stürmhunde, _Hogan and the General, Son of Olde England…There are six major story lines here; only two have been posted so far."

He consulted a list. "I count three."

"'Papa Bear' and 'Eyeties' are both part of 'Hogan and the General;' that's one storyline."

The guys were starting to look a little worried now.

"Would you mind telling the court what these stories entail?" Riker asked.

The phrase "contempt of court" came to mind, but the disturbed faces of the writers in the gallery backed me up. Those writers are my readers, after all. "Yes, I would mind. That would be a massive spoiler. From everything I've seen in following this case, the court somehow seems to have access to material the writers haven't even posted yet—which, by the way, sounds an awful lot like hacking, which is illegal. But that's besides the point. The other writers here, if you'll look at their faces, clearly don't _want_ to know. Suffice it to say that this is an AU, an alternate universe, and one in which _you_ never could have existed. Still want to know about it?"

He actually started to fade, looking a little transparent in the middle, and there wasn't the first sign of transporter effect. It reminded me rather strongly of the prom scene in _Back to the Future._

I pressed my advantage. "And speaking of things you really don't want people to know about, what were you doing giving the guys our passwords so _they_ can hack the 'net? Shame on you. So much for your vaunted Prime Directive."

He must have decided to abandon that line of questioning, because he solidified once more. "Let's try another tack, then," he said. "Do you deny intentionally causing Hogan and his men intense emotional upset by turning them into virtual slaves?"

I just kind of grinned smugly at him. "You don't know the half of it," I drawled. "They're actually quite lucky. Normally, I write what I consider 'slash lite,' but that isn't canon for them. And the Germans severely looked down on that type of behavior. Besides, would you rather have had me have them all executed?" I repeated my earlier dig. "You have to realize, Commander: This whole thing started as an intellectual exercise. The questions were, 1) How would characters like Hogan's Heroes and the Rat Patrol be affected if Germany won the war, 2) What events would have to have been changed for this to have come about? And 3) How would the world have been different after the war?"

In the gallery, Hochstetter could be heard to gasp, "We didn't win?!"

My grin turned positively wicked. "Congratulations, Commander. You have just violated your own temporal directives and put your own reality at risk. All the Germans in this room will leave with the knowledge of the outcome of the war."

"Getting back to the question of lasting emotional damage—" Riker snapped; he was clearly trying to regain control.

"What emotional damage?" I cut him off. "Hogan's men know that he wasn't executed; they've seen him in good condition and cared for. Hogan knows his men are relatively safe—safer than they were during the war. Newkirk and LeBeau realize their lifelong dreams." Ooops. Spoiler. "So what is there to complain about? Yeah, Hogan got battered once, I will admit that, but the responsible party was severely punished, and the incident itself fit with both canon and reality. Similar incidents have been seen in numerous other movies. _Rambo,_ for one. So what's your complaint?"

I had some of the writers in stitches by this point.

"Actually, compared to some of what's out there, my stuff's pretty tame," I finished.

He stood there with his mouth working soundlessly, looking for all the world like a goldfish, and I grinned. I couldn't help it. I never did like him on TNG, and it kept slipping through. I especially have never liked good-looking men who _know_ they're good-looking, and that's the way he always struck me.

"Uh, no further questions," he finally stammered.

Amos Burke was smiling as he got up. I'd told him my thoughts on the matter when I'd engaged him, and he'd thoroughly approved of my approach. What he didn't realize was that he was about to find out that my snarkiness…is that a word?...wasn't entirely an act.

"Given your remarks just now, would you go so far as to say there is even a point to this trial?" he gave me my opening.

I snorted. "This whole trial is an utter farce. There is absolutely no way that this court can enforce any decrees it comes up with. Yeah, they might be able to keep things from being posted on the Internet, but there are a lot of people, myself included, who prefer to _handwrite_ all our stories. I have a two-foot-high pile of manuscripts at home. They've never been posted. I have no intention of ever posting them. But the stories are in existence. You cannot control any of our minds. You cannot control any of our creative impulses. Take away our computers, and we'll just go back to pen and paper, and snail-mail to share our stories among like-minded individuals. It's called freedom of speech, people, and it's guaranteed by the Bill of Rights."

Now the guys were looking at each other uncomfortably, and I knew darn well why. It was one of the things they'd been fighting for, after all.

"If I may quote from earlier testimony," Burke said, "None of these characters have ever complained about what they are put through in the actual episodes because, and I quote, 'It's in the script.' What would you say to that?"

"Objection!" Riker shouted, not wanting me to be given _that_ opening.

"Overruled," Judge Harry immediately shot back, curious to see the developing catfight.

"Hogan and his men, and many other characters—some of whom are in this room with us—caught our attention. They came into being through the creative minds of the original writers. And, if you stop to think about it, people, those writers are no different from any of us who write fanfiction. Many of them wrote because the premise of the show intrigued them. Yeah, they got paid for it, but no amount of money is ever going to produce a good screenplay if the writer's mind is not caught up in the premise. The only difference between those writers and those of us who write fanfiction is, _We. Don't. Get. Paid."_

Applause and cheers rose from the writers at that point, and Judge Harry banged his gavel. "Order!" he demanded.

"I'll have two cheeseburgers and an order of fries," a laconic voice said from an apparently empty seat among the characters. A wave of laughter and applause rippled through the room, then everyone settled down once more.

"One last point," I continued into the resumed silence. _"Hogan's Heroes, _as written by its creators, was a product of its times. If it were to be a TV show today, you would see a lot more violence, and it most likely would not be a comedy. You would see Hogan and his men being abused by the Gestapo, and other circumstances like those they are objecting to now. So, tell me, what would they do? Take _those_ writers to court, like they did us? _We_ are their biggest fans. _We_ are the ones that have kept their memories alive all these years since the end of the show. _We_ are the reason the DVDs are out and being purchased, making knowledge of them available to our upcoming generations. Many who buy the DVDs do so because of the fanfiction they discovered. The fanfiction authors are what caught their attention and interest. Consider _that_ the next time you decide to complain." I stopped to think about some of what I'd just said. Yup. Witness, hostile, one each. What do you expect? I worked last night and haven't been to sleep yet. I'm never terribly reasonable under those conditions.

Amos Burke, no doubt, was thinking something along the same lines, and that he'd best get me out of there _fast. _"No further questions," he said.

_**Author's Note: **_Jake very kindly took most of this as dictation, as _I really did not have time for this!!!!! _;D


	33. A Medical Interlude

A Medical Interlude

Submitted by Snooky

* * * * * *

During a break in the action, Hogan was holding a strategy session over by the spectators' benches. "How did that author find out that Riker gave us those codes? All right, who blew the whistle? This could ruin our whole operation and…"

"Gangway! Medic coming through!" The spectators crowding the aisle of the courtroom parted like the Red Sea as Joe Wilson hurried over to the front of the Allied section. He came to a dead stop in front of Hogan and the boys.

"Wilson, what's going on?" Hogan glared at the Sergeant.

"Preventative medicine, Sir. It's what they try to do in this century. Roll up your sleeve. I need to start an IV."

"What? I'm not rolling anything up." Hogan backed away.

"My chapter's been posted," Wilson said. "Just trying to get a head start on things. Just in case, you know?" He took out his stethoscope, tore open Hogan's shirt, eliciting a bunch of oohs and aahs from females in the vicinity, and placed the bell on Hogan's chest.

"Cripes, that's cold!"

"Sorry, Sir. Cough for me."

Wilson! What are you doing? I'm fine."

"You weren't a little while ago, Sir. Breathe."

Hogan grabbed the end of the stethoscope and yelled into it. "I'm better now. Get out of here. Ouch!"

Wilson, undaunted by the Colonels protests continued. "Make a fist, there, just a prick."

"What is wrong with you?"

"Here, drink a glass of water."

"I'm not thirsty." Hogan stood up and tried to back away.

"Sit!" Wilson pushed him back down.

Hogan popped right back up.

"Sir, sit!"

"How'd you like to be a Corporal?"

"Doesn't bother me in the least, Sir. Sit! Here, you hold this." Wilson handed the now attached IV bag to an astonished Private seated in the row right behind the leads. "All done. Phew. See? Now hopefully, you'll be all ready. Here, put this in your mouth." He shoved a thermometer under Hogan's tongue and stood there triumphantly.

The entire courthouse had come to a complete standstill to watch the epic battle between Colonel and medic. Now, everyone was staring.

"Sorry for the interruption, your Honor."

"That's quite all right, Sergeant Wilson." Harry had actually found the whole episode rather amusing.

"Colonel, are you okay?" Susan/Snooky was concerned and had rushed over to the bench.

Hogan took the thermometer out of his mouth. "What did you do to him? He's a maniac."

"Nothing! I just posted his chapter to make room for more. I have to get everyone out of camp, so you can all go home. Remember? Oh, hey look! No fever, yet!"

"Yet?" LeBeau had come over to check on things. "And where's my chapter?"

"I'm working on it! I'll get it done eventually. I'm a little preoccupied right now!"

"Oh." Chastised, LeBeau sat down.

Newkirk took his place. "You don't think you can smuggle me in some English biscuits to go with that tea, luv?"

Susan shook her head. "They stopped selling Peek Freans in the United States. Ask one of the Canadian authors. Here Rob, button this up or you'll get cold." Susan helped Hogan with his shirt. "Where's ColHogan?"

"I think she stepped out for a few minutes to take care of her cat. She'll be right back," Hogan said.

"There, that's better."

"I feel ridiculous," Hogan muttered.

"Don't get testy. Wilson always has your best interest in mind." Susan grabbed the IV bag and set it down on his bomber jacket.

Hogan looked around for the medic, who fortunately was out of earshot. "He's freaking me out."

Kinch crawled over.

"Still not feeling well?" Hogan asked with concern.

"No, Sir, I'm not."

"Here." Susan looked in her purse. "Try some Tums, and here's something for your headache."

Hogan remembered they were discussing the codes when this fiasco began. He confronted Susan. "Did you tell Jordre about the codes?"

"Nope, I didn't tell anyone. But if I figured it out, it's a sure bet someone else did, and how else would you have gotten them anyway? Makes sense!"

"Crap." Hogan realized there was a very short window now to make use of the passwords. The authors were probably in the process of changing them.

Harry interrupted everyone's conversations by calling for the next witness. "Sergeant Carter! You're next!"


	34. Carter Recalled to the Stand

Carter Recalled

Submitted by Snooky

* * * * * *

Sergeant Carter, upon hearing his name, looked nervously around for Colonel Hogan. His first experience on the stand was traumatic, so he was now terrified. He was afraid of public speaking and wary of blowing it on the stand. He spotted his C.O. and looked at him for reassurance. "Colonel?"

"Go ahead, Carter, you'll be fine."

"Yes, Sir." He walked up to the witness stand, got sworn in and nervously took his seat.

"Sergeant, I need to go over something that one of the defendants said and get your opinion on her statement." Riker attempted to put Carter at ease.

"Yes, Sir."

"Mrs. Groundwater testified and I quote. 'I know. That's the part I have trouble with. I don't think I'm doing them harm. They are fictional. They bounce back from everything. They go from one story to another—one _author_ to another might be a more correct term—with no recollection of what happened to them from one story to another.'"

"Sergeant, seeing that Colonel Hogan is a bit tied up at the moment, I'd like your opinion of this statement."

"With all due respect to Mrs. Groundwater, Sir. I think she's mistaken."

"Why do you say that, Sergeant Carter?"

"I remember everything, Sir. We all do."

"Can you elaborate, please?"

"It was brought up in the hearings, Commander. Remember Wilson's testimony? He had a list with all of the horrible stuff done to us." (1).

"What about you, specifically?"

"Yeah, me. I had my tonsils taken out and then I was shot, by that woman over there." He pointed to Snooky, who was still attempting to make Colonel Hogan comfortable with the medical paraphernalia. "Sorry, ma'am. And that's nothing. I was captured and tortured and almost died, and then I was hurt and I'm still down in the tunnels with Colonel Potter, and then I think I got hurt another time and the Colonel took me to a barn. It's all in here." He pointed to his head. "We don't bounce back. We have the memories."

"So, Sergeant, you would say, under oath, that on this point, Mrs. Groundwater is mistaken?"

"Yes, Sir. I think she may have misunderstood. We all remember everything and we don't bounce back!"

LeBeau and Newkirk nodded in agreement. Hogan gave Carter a thumbs up.

"That's all. Thank you, Sergeant." Riker turned the witness over to Mason.

"In the hearings, the subject of the writers dropping in on all of you came up. Do you recall that testimony?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Colonel Hogan was on the stand. He was asked why the writers who dropped in weren't confronted. He claimed that when they were there, you, meaning all of you, did not remember what they had done to you. And I quote…Mrs. Bits and Pieces, could you please read back that testimony?"

Bits and Pieces checked her notes. "Riker asked: 'And did you ever bother to ask them why these horrible things kept happening to you and your men?'

"And then Hogan replied: 'No, and that's the weird part. When they were there, we didn't have any memory of any of these terrible things happening. So, of course, I didn't ask. But I remember them coming, and I remember afterwards thinking, how could these women write these things? That happened as soon as I found myself buried alive, I think.'"

Mason thanked the court stenographer. "Sergeant, do you have an explanation?"

Carter thought for a second. "Sir, when we're going through a mission, and that's what that was, whether or not you believe it, we had to get the device, control Hochstetter, and get the ladies back, and boy, did it last a long time…"

"Sergeant!"

"Oh, sorry, I lost my train of thought there for a second."

Everyone laughed.

"Once we're involved in a mission, our entire attention is focused on what's happening at the moment, you see. There's no room or time for anything else to filter though. That's maybe why we didn't realize it at the time, that these women were sort of responsible for all the bad stuff and good stuff too, if you want to be honest. Once it's over and we have time to breathe, well, the memories come back."

"But once you got here, in this courtroom, how do you explain the total recall?"

"Well, we're not on a mission, now, are we Mr. Mason? Of course we would remember everything. Isn't that the point of the trial, Sir?"

Mason gave up. "No further questions, your Honor."

"Thank you, Sergeant. You may step down."

Carter went back to his seat and eagerly accepted the congratulations of the rest of the team.

* * * * * *

(1) Fanfic Court, chapter two


	35. An Interlude in the Ladies' Room

**An Interlude in the Ladies'**

_**or**_

**How Do **_**You**_** Spell Relief?**

**by**

**Jordre & Jake**

Dismissed from the witness stand, I joined Jake in the gallery, and we made our way to the ladies' room. The minute the door closed behind us, we dissolved into hysterics. "Oh, my…Did you _see_ Riker's face?" I collapsed against the wall. "He looked like a…a…guppy out of water when I WAGged him!" I could hardly stop laughing; if I didn't watch out, I'd end up with a case of hiccups to end all.

Jake looked at me, barely in control herself. "That was a WAG? You mean you didn't know for sure? And here I was wondering how you'd found that out!"

"How could I?" I said, gasping for breath. "I mean, yeah, I've been following this trial—we both have—but still. I was just fishing!"

The authors' passwords were the topic of our discussion, and the possible obtaining thereof by the Heroes.

I looked at my roommate, sobering. "I've seen how Riker approaches the defendants; _he_ throws all sorts of accusations at them and doesn't give them time to think between attacks. I figured I'd take a page from his own playbook and make every crazy allegation I could. I can always apologize later, after all. Besides, the best defense is a good offense, they say."

Jake looked at me. "You're crazy, you know that?" she said, starting to laugh again.

"Yeah, ain't it great? Look, it wasn't all _that_ far-fetched. I mean, he's broken just about all of the Prime Directives. And he's got access to the _Enterprise—_and Data, who's really a walking, self-aware computer when it comes right down to it. And it looked like I hit paydirt, too. Serves him right for playing so down and dirty." Right then I realized I'd forgotten one major _caveat_ of spycraft that was in most of the books I'd read: When in the loo, check the stalls to see if anyone else was there. A dark-haired, green-eyed young lady came out, excusing herself in a British accent as she walked between us on her way to the exit.

Jake and I exchanged glances. _Mavis Newkirk? _She looked like _him_. Oh, boy, we were in trouble now, for I had no doubt that she'd tell her brother, and _he'd_ tell the rest of the guys that we really didn't have any proof.

"Oops," we both said in unison. (We do that a lot, talking in stereo. That happens when two people share living space for a _looong_ time.)

I sighed. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see how this turns out. It _was_ a reasonable guess, after all—they knew too much, and they knew stuff that hadn't even been posted yet. Now you know why I handwrite, and store my unposted stuff on flash-drives when I'm not working on them."

"Yeah, me too," Jake agreed with a grin. _"And_ why we both make sure we're offline when we're typing stories in."

"Now more than ever," I swore, then laughed again. "Come on, let's see the rest of the show."

"Don't you mean, 'the rest of the story'?" Jake quipped at me, deepening her voice and taking on Paul Harvey's cadence.

"Whatever," I said as we headed out the door and back to the courtroom gallery.


	36. Captain Wagner is called to the Stand

Captain Wagner is called to the Stand

Submitted by Bits and Pieces

* * * * * *

"Well, that was an interesting testimony," Judge Harry Stone said as he stretched his arms out briefly, trying to get the kinks out of his back. This was turning into quite a long trial. He grabbed a deck of cards from under the desk, and began to shuffle them absently. "Who's next, Bull?" He asked his trusty Bailiff. "No, wait," he jumped in before Bull could answer, "Let's take five before the next witness is brought in."

Bull nodded. "Good thinking, Judge."

Harry banged his gavel. "Everybody take five minutes!" He called out. Then he looked over at the court stenographer. "Say, Bits and Pieces, why don't you fill me in on what we've got so far?"

"Please, Judge Stone, call me Janet," Bits and Pieces answered, yearning for a little less formality, "At least during the break."

Harry smiled. "Okay, Janet, what have we got so far?"

Janet smiled back, and then looked down at her notes. "Well, so far, we've had thirty-four testimonies, six recesses, three lunch breaks, one medical intervention, and two overnights; which means we're on the third day of the trial."

"Is that all?" Harry looked astounded. "It feels like we've been here for weeks!"

Just then Carter and Newkirk wandered over to the bench, overhearing the tail-end of the conversation. "Say, it has felt like weeks!" Newkirk exclaimed, and then looked over at Hogan, who was still sitting in his spot in the front row, trying to hold still while Wilson took out the I.V. "Hasn't it, Colonel?" He asked him.

"Yeah, it has, Newkirk," Hogan replied, "So, how much longer is this thing going to go on, anyway? I've got things to do back in camp, you know!" He gave Wilson a frustrated look as the medic put a bandage over the place where he'd just removed the needle.

"Well, I suppose that depends on how many more witnesses we have to hear from," Harry answered. "Believe me, you won't be the only one relieved when this thing's over!"

"I hate to interrupt, Judge," Bull piped up, "But it's time for the next witness."

Harry sighed. "All right. Everyone, please take your seats. Let's continue, shall we?"

Newkirk and Carter went back to their seats, Carter still trying to get the last of the blue dye off of his face.

"Your Honor, the prosecution calls Captain Friedrich Wagner to the stand!" Bull called out loudly.

All eyes turned toward the door as a tall, rather serious looking man entered, dressed in a Gestapo Captain's uniform. He wore glasses, and his brown hair showed signs of receding, but he had strong features, and would certainly be considered handsome.

Janet's head flew up at the mention of his name. _What on Earth is he doing here?_ She thought, surprised. _And he's testifying for the prosecution! _She also couldn't help noticing that he looked almost exactly like her husband.

Wagner walked up to the witness chair, and placed his hand on the book that Bull was holding out in front of him. He looked at the title, and then back up at Bull in confusion. "_The Bluejacket's manual?_"(1)

Bull looked embarrassed, and then just shrugged. He swore Wagner in, and the Captain took his seat.

Riker moved in to start his questioning. "So, Captain Wagner, you are what they call, an O.C.; an Original Character, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir." Wagner answered.

"And as such, you don't really know the Hogan's Heroes characters that well, do you?"

"Well, I just met some of them a few months ago. But I'm sure I'll be spending more time with them."

"You'd better be!" Hogan spoke up from his seat in the front row. "Newkirk and I are still waiting for you to get us out of Gestapo Headquarters!"

"What?" Hochstetter shouted, leaping to his feet. "Is this the spy you mentioned in your testimony, Bits and Pieces? I should have you shot! I should have you all shot!"

Harry banged his gavel. "All right, that's it! Hochstetter, you're out of here!" He motioned to Bull to have the Major removed from the courtroom, then added, "You can come back once you decide to behave yourself."

"You haven't heard the last of me!" Hochstetter yelled as he was being dragged out of the room by a couple of guards, frantically clutching his notebook in his hands.

"Okay!" Harry said when things once more quieted down. "Let's continue, shall we?"

Riker shook his head, trying to remember where he was. Oh, yeah. "So, Captain, even though you're new to the whole HH scene, as it were, you are still aware of what kind of pain these characters, and you, can suffer at the hands of the writers, correct?"

Wagner looked confused. "Well, I guess so." He said.

"And didn't you even have to endure some abuse by your father, and in the end, have to kill him yourself?"

"But that's because he was going to shoot Newkirk!" Wagner exclaimed. "I couldn't let him do that. He's the first real friend I've ever had."

A collective, "Awww," reverberated throughout the courtroom.

"So, you felt emotional pain for your friend, and physical pain from the abuse you suffered."

"Objection!" Mason spoke up. "The prosecutor is putting words in the witness's mouth!"

"Overruled," Harry stated. "I'd like the witness to answer the question."

"Yes, I did feel pain." Wagner admitted.

"That's all I wanted to know. Your witness, Mr. Mason," Riker finished.

Mason got up and approached the stand. "Captain Wagner, you yourself testified that you've only known these characters for a few months. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," Wagner answered.

"So apparently you didn't even exist until a few months ago."

"I…I guess so." Wagner was starting to look confused.

"So, if you were just arbitrarily created for the purposes of being a part of a story, then you could just as easily be dispensed with, couldn't you?"

Wagner's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at, Mr. Mason."

Mason inwardly smiled. "If you can be instantly created by a writer, then you can be instantly disposed of the same way. Wouldn't you agree, Captain Wagner?"

"Well, I…"

"Which would logically mean, wouldn't it, that you don't really exist in the first place!" Mason's voice rose as he finished his sentence.

"But…" Wagner was trying to wrap his brain around what Mason had just said, "But, I'm here, aren't I?"

"Are you? Or are you just a figment of someone's imagination; a facsimile, if you will, created for the sole purpose of advancing a story plot…only to be thrown into the trash when your usefulness is finished?"

Wagner looked at Janet desperately. "You'd never do that to me, would you?" He pleaded.

Janet stopped taking notes and looked back at him. "No, of course not! Why do you think you're in my current story? I could never throw you away!"

"Objection!" Riker called out. "The court stenographer has no business responding to this testimony!"

"Overruled," Harry replied, "As his creator, she has every right to respond."

"Then I'd like to direct my question to the author," Mason said. "Ms. Bits and Pieces, isn't it true that you could get rid of this character, given the fact that you created him in the first place?"

Janet looked hurt that she'd even have to consider it. "Well, I suppose…" she responded after a moment.

Mason smiled. "So you could, in effect, erase him from existence, and he would be gone forever."

"I guess, maybe, I don't know, I never thought about it like that…"

"No further questions, your Honor."

"Redirect, your Honor!" Riker called out as he stood up.

"Go ahead." Harry told him.

"Captain Wagner, do you think it's possible for Ms. Bits and Pieces here to erase you?"

Wagner thought for a moment. "Well, if she created me, then, I suppose it might be possible."

"And if she did, what do you think would happen?"

Wagner shrugged; he'd given up trying to figure out where this was going. "I have no idea."

"Well, do you think it's possible that you would just cease to exist?"

"Objection!" Mason shouted, "Any answer from the witness would be merely an opinion."

Riker turned to Harry. "Your Honor, these are the same questions the defense asked!"

Harry gave his cards another shuffle under the desk. "I'll allow it," he said, "But get to the point, please."

"Thank you, judge." Riker turned back to Wagner. "Please answer the question, Captain."

"I suppose anything's possible."

"But you would still exist in her memory, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, that's true."

"And you would still exist in everyone's memory that read the story she wrote that included you, correct?"

Wagner sat up a little straighter. "Yes, I would, wouldn't I?"

Riker inwardly smiled. "So, even if she could 'erase' you, as it were, she could never erase the memories of you. You could never 'cease to exist'. The most she could do would be to simply not use your character again."

"That's right!" Wagner exclaimed excitedly.

"So, if you exist, and you can feel pain, which you admitted to earlier, then you must be real." Riker finished with a satisfied look on his face. Then he walked back to his desk. "I have no further questions, your Honor."

* * * * *

As Wagner stepped down, Judge Stone announced another five minute break. Wagner started to make his way out of the courtroom, when Janet caught up to him.

"At least let me walk you out of here," she said, feeling very confused at this point whether she'd helped the prosecution, or the defense.

"You'd never try to get rid of me, would you?" Wagner asked her, concern evident in his voice.

"No, I'd never get rid of you!" Janet smiled at him reassuringly. "As a matter of fact," she continued, once they'd reached the hallway outside of the courtroom, "You look very much like my husband, you know. Do you think it would be cheating if we, um, spent some time together later? He's in Africa, you know; won't be back for five more months." She looked at him invitingly, promising an interesting evening with her eyes.

"Wouldn't he object to that?" Wagner asked, finding himself tempted, but not wanting to risk angering a protective spouse.

Janet sighed. "You're right. I could never cheat on him. Oh, if only I hadn't made you look like him!" She smiled and gave him a wink, and then returned to the courtroom, taking her place once again as the court stenographer.

* * * * * *

_The Bluejacket's Manual_ is the official handbook of the U.S. Navy.

A/N: And I did let my husband read this, and he was okay with it!


	37. The Testimony of Atarah Derek

**The Testimony of Atarah Derek**

I had just arrived at my apartment after a long day at the Wal-Mart deli. Not the best job in the world, but it payed the rent. I unlocked my door and opened it, and immediately sensed something was wrong. Someone had come in and committed a cleaning! Nothing was in the state of organized chaos in which I had left it. Even my paints were put away. Or were they?

The first thing I did was to check my hamster. Stitch was sleeping peacefully in his wheel. I then checked to see what had happened. There were still some dirty dishes in the sink, waiting to be washed. It seemed most of the "damage" had been done in the living room.

In my search for various items, I restored my living room to its original state. I made an inventory of items that I concluded were definitely missing. My sketchbooks had been rifled. One page was missing from one of the books; a depiction of Newkirk as a fox. Recalling the incidents of late as related by Snooky's stories, my thoughts turned to all of my _Hogan's Heroes _related possessions. I frantically searched for my pen drive. It too had been taken from my backpack. The _Hogan's Heroes _and _MASH _DVDs were out of place on the shelf. The intruders, whoever they were, had gone through my movies. I discovered _Kung Fu Panda _in my DVD player. I knew full well that the last DVD I had watched was _MASH _season 7.

Further scrutiny revealed two other items missing: A green journal labeled, "The Plot Bunny Pen," and my graph paper notebook. The latter I finally found in my bedroom, but it had several pages torn out of it. Tucked in between the pages of the notebook was a notice. It read, "You have been summoned to testify at the trial taking place in the Hogan's Heroes universe. Please call this number immediately."

I dialed in the number, but before I hit "send," I noticed the signature. "Theboysfrombarrackstwo." My last thought before I made the call was, "Huh?!"

When I pushed the button, something weird started happening. I felt a tug on my clothes, then finally a sense of being grabbed from behind overcame me. The wind picked up—wait a minute, wind?!—and my bedroom and world were literally blown away. At first I was ecstatic, thinking that Narnia was real after all, and I was being whisked away just as the Pevensies had been on their second journey to the magical land. But I was sorely disappointed when, instead of mountains, moving trees, and talking animals, I discovered that I was in a courtroom, surrounded by people from a vast number of fandoms. It seemed every fandom had contributed at least one of its characters. I rolled my eyes at the large anime contingent that had congregated in one portion of the room. And I swear I saw Kimba. That would explain the absence of our other favorite African cat. Suddenly I spotted someone else.

"Father Mulcahy!"

The man in question jumped when he saw me. "J-just stay where you are. I'm in no mood to discuss things. In fact, if you want to make a confession, I suggest you find some other chaplain. Or better yet, wait until you're called to the stand."

It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. Suddenly it dawned on me, especially when I surveyed the defense side of the courtroom. It was taken up by people—mostly women—whom I'd never met. On the prosecution side sat the entire cast of _Hogan's Heroes_, save for Hogan himself and Newkirk. The Germans remained coldly separate from the Allies, but one thing they were united on was the glares they sent in the direction of the defense. I immediately noticed my favorite character from that fandom: Louis LeBeau. His face was hard to read, but something told me he wasn't happy with me. Especially when I glanced down and noticed a bandage wrapped tightly around his ankle.

"The trial," I said out loud.

"Yes, the trial," said the judge. Now, if everyone is present, we'll continue."

"Excuse me, your honor," Carter said. "Colonel Hogan and Newkirk aren't back yet."

Suddenly the doors in back opened, and Hogan and Newkirk appeared. "Sorry we're late," Hogan said. "Had some errands to run."

I noticed the items Newkirk was carrying. Among them was my green notebook, stuffed with loose leaf papers. So that's who had been in my apartment! I should have guessed.

Newkirk handed his stolen treasures to the prosecution attorney. He also pulled out of his pocket a string of pen drives. I recognized my little blue pen drive.

"That's unlawful search and seizure!" I accused.

"Oh is it now?" Newkirk challenged. "Don't forget that you're in the fandom world, where everything goes in a court case like this."

"I'll remember you said that," I promised the cocky cockney as I took the seat offered to me.

Newkirk gingerly touched his left temple. "So will I, luv." He sat down next to Hogan.

"Your Honor, I would like to call our latecomer, Atarah Derek, to the stand."

I looked over at the person who had called my pseudonym. He looked like he'd just walked out of some episode of Star Trek. I wasn't sure which one as I had never been a close follower of the Trekkie fandom. Obviously this dude wasn't Patrick Steward, Seven-of-Nine, or that guy from Reading Rainbow. I'd figure it out eventually, I decided.

"Miss Derek, we're awaiting your testimony," the judge said, snapping me out of my own little world and bringing me back to...whatever form of reality this was. I took the stand.

After I took the oath (oddly enough I was sworn in on some book about the behind-the-scenes details of Hogan's Heroes), the prosecuting attorney asked, "This is optional, Miss Derek, but would you mind stating your real name for our records?"

"Just my first name," I said, remembering everything my parents had drilled into my head about internet safety. I figured it had to apply here, too. "Lorane, or Raini. They're interchangeable."

"Interchangeable?" the lawyer repeated, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes. Lorane is my legal name, but I usually go by Raini."

"Any particular reason for the pen name, 'Atarah Derek?'"

I shrugged. "It's just a direct translation of my real name into Hebrew. I'm pretty much obsessed with all things Hebrew. The language, the people—especially the Wurmbrands and Charlie Eppes." At this, I noticed a figure in the audience sink down into his seat, hoping to avoid detection. But his dark curls didn't quite make it. I resisted the urge to squeal like a rabid fan girl. It was harder than I thought. "I also love the movie _Fiddler on the Roof_. And I was excited to learn that my favorite _Hogan's Heroes_ character was played by a Jewish actor."

"That would explain her stories about me," LeBeau whispered to his companions.

"And no, I'm not Jewish, by the way. But my Boss is a Jewish carpenter." Nervous energy had caused me to go off on a rabbit trail. I quieted down, a little embarrassed at my own rambling.

"'My Boss is a Jewish carpenter?'" LeBeau repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's get started, Miss Derek," the lawyer from Star Trek said.

"Wait! Can I at least know the names of the lawyers that are representing each party?"

The prosecutor scoffed. "I thought everyone knew our names by this point. I'm Riker, the prosecuting attorney, and your attorney's name is Perry Mason_. _Judge Harry Stone is presiding."

_Perry Mason? Wasn't he from that show by the same name that aired in the late 50's or early 60's?_

"Miss Derek, how long have you been a member of this site?"

"Since 2003."

"And when did you start writing for the Hogan's Heroes fandom?"

"Late 2008. I didn't get into Hogan's Heroes until summer of last year, and I didn't even know the show existed until my best friend showed me the pilot episode on YouTube last spring. I'm only 22, so the fact that I know about the show at all tends to surprise some people."

"_YouTube?" Newkirk and Carter repeated quietly, in unison. Hogan and Hochstetter made mental notes to google this "YouTube." It excited the Gestapo major that he now knew the 21__st__ century term, "google." Where he had learned it, he didn't know. Oh well, that wasn't important._

"And you mainly write single-chapter stories known as 'one shots,' am I correct?"

"Yes sir. To be honest, I've never completed a multi-chapter story in any fandom."

"What was the most recent story you uploaded to the site?"

"Uploaded or updated?"

"Let's start with uploaded."

I thought for a moment. "I believe it was...a response to an old challenge."

"What was its title?" Riker pressed.

I looked nervously at Hogan and his crew. "The Hogan's Heroes Duck Shoot. But if it makes anyone feel better, I'm kinda stuck right now, so no one else is gonna get hurt or anything any time soon."

"Hurt?!" Newkirk shouted. "She killed me an' LeBeau off! I think that's a little more than just bein' hurt!"

LeBeau started cursing me in French (at least, I figured he was likely using some French swear words), but stopped when he noticed that Newkirk seemed to be having a hard time breathing. The Englishman seemed to be swelling up.

"Someone grab the epi-pen—again!" some unidentified member of the audience shouted.

After Newkirk had been jabbed in the leg with the much-needed antihistamine, the questioning resumed, and I silently wondered what the random concerned audience member had meant by "again."

Riker smiled. He had me right where he wanted me. "Miss Derek, what compelled you to respond to this challenge?"

I thought for a moment. "It was there?" I finally offered.

The Heroes groaned. "Oh, for..." Newkirk began, but stopped when the judge sent a glare his direction. LeBeau began grumbling in French again.

"So this malicious story was written solely for self-amusement in an attempt to see if you could literally write off the characters?"

"Objection!" Mason shouted. "Badgering the witness."

"Sustained," said the judge.

"Let me rephrase that," Riker said. "You wrote a story in which you intentionally killed off two characters for the sake of simply answering the challenge?"

"Pretty much," I said, barely audible.

"Were you obligated to respond to the challenge?"

"No."

"Then why did you?"

I looked up at the attorney. "Well...everyone else on the site had written some pretty effective angst, and I...kinda wanted to try my hand at it."

Mason frowned. His witness was hanging herself by her own pen. He flipped through a list of papers containing information on each of the witnesses, searching for something to use.

"But it's the only story I've done that in so far," I added hastily. "All of my other stories have mostly been cute and fluffy."

"Such a good girl," Schultz said with disdain. "It is a shame she should write something just so she can look like the other writers."

"There is another story, 'No Greater Love,' I believe, in which you killed off another character?" Riker said, motioning for an assistant to hand him a stack of papers. He leafed through it. "You had the lead guard dog, Heidi, killed by Major Hochstetter's dogs. In this story, you also had Corporal LeBeau injured. In another story, Corporal Newkirk sustained a concussion and laceration above his left temple."

"They weren't hurt all that badly," I protested. "And Heidi is an example of what I usually do when I do write angst. She died a hero."

"_But the point is, she died," Riker stated. "And while she was not a human character, and certainly not one of the main characters, she was killed off in order to advance your story. This is not a 'cute and fluffy' story as you claim, Miss Derek."_

"I said 'most,'" I mumbled to no one in particular.

"Miss Derek, we also have here a list of stories you intend to write. Concepts that you call plot bunnies."

At this, Riker plugged my pen drive into a computer. An overhead projector showed the courtroom the options listed on the drive. Riker clicked the button that said, "Open folder to view files." He found his way to my stories folder, and the cursor hovered over the folder titled, "Plot bunnies."

"Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would like to present as evidence of malintent, the story concepts of Miss Atarah Derek."

"You don't want to do that, sir," I protested, worried what might happen in this alternate reality.

Riker ignored me and opened the folder. Suddenly a stream of rabbits burst from the screen of the computer and spread out into the courtroom. The plot bunnies sought out various members of the audience, including Father Mulcahy and Charlie Eppes. Both men jumped up screaming. Charlie stumbled over other members of the audience in an attempt to flee the room, yelling something about retreating to the safety of P vs. NP, while Mulcahy crossed himself and began praying for protection.

The courtroom was in chaos. Carter was alternating between chasing and being chased by the rabbits, and Burkhalter was frozen in place, remembering the horror of being dressed up by some other author in some sort of Easter rabbit costume.* Others who were lucky enough not to be the target of the plot bunnies began quoting lines from Monty Python ("He's got fangs, he does!"). I had to laugh when I heard some unseen simian screech and saw a stick with a variety of gourds dangling from it reach out from behind a column and whack one of the rabbits.

The judge was banging his gavel and screaming for the restoration of order. Finally someone announced a brief recess, and the courtroom was evacuated, with Hogan and his men leading the pack.

…................

When all of the rabbits had been rounded up and beamed back into the pen drive (courtesy of Riker's 20-something century technology), the session resumed. This time I found myself facing my attorney, that Mason guy.

"Miss Derek, you have written several stories for Hogan's Heroes, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"And most of them were relatively harmless, weren't they?"

"Yes sir. I usually write missing scenes, song fics, fics exploring the background of a character, stuff like that."

"You've also contributed to the fleshing out of some characters. I noticed one of your 'plot bunnies' was for a detailed explanation of why Corporal LeBeau is hemophobic."

"Yes."

_LeBeau turned red at this and secretly hoped said fic would never get published. Slow Fade had been frustrating enough. Just because the author wanted to draw some parallels to some new firefighter movie..._

"Another fic casts Major Hochstetter in an odd, but nonetheless somewhat positive light by establishing that he has a good relationship with his mother and can be quite sentimental about Christmas."

"That was one of the stories I came up with at stupid 'o clock," I offered, trying to explain its odd nature.

"Yes, you state that in the author's notes," said Mason. "But I also notice that, with the exception of the story recently written out of what I presume to be peer pressure, you take a cautious approach to placing characters in potentially dangerous situations. The characters make a conscious choice to place themselves in harm's way for the benefit of other characters. Case in point, Heidi the guard dog. In fact, looking at some of your corralled plot bunnies, I notice you have a story concept here based on the real life experiences of one Richard Wurmbrand. Could you explain this a little bit?"

"_Well, Richard Wurmbrand is the founder of Voice of the Martyrs, an organization that I support on a regular basis. He was born in a Jewish home in Romania, and, shortly after marrying Sabina, became a Christian. He suffered under the Nazis and was later imprisoned for fourteen years by the Communists. He's one of my heroes, as are all the people I read about in the VOM newsletters."_

"And these individuals inspire stories?"

"Yes sir. But since one member of the Wurmbrand family, their son Mihai, is still living, the site rules forbid me from including him as a historical character in my fan fiction. But I don't know how I'd write a story featuring Richard and Sabina, but not Mihai, who would be about five at the time of my story. So I made up two characters who are older than the Wurmbrands were at the time, but still very much based on the Wurmbrands. The former concentration camp guard I mentioned in that plot bunny is based on a man that the Wurmbrands brought to Christ. He had actually been a guard at the camp where Sabina's family was killed, and may have even been personally responsible for their deaths. But after his conversion he became an active member of the Wurmbrands' underground church."

"So this story has a historical background, making it a believable storyline?"

"Right."

"And any danger, risk, or angst that features the characters would be, as is stated here, 'based on real life experiences?'"

"Yes sir."

"Why the focus on these characters?"

"_Well, as I said, the members of the world's underground churches are my heroes, the Wurmbrands in particular. I've always wanted to be like them. But I live in America, where suffering is having to get up early on a weekend to attend church. Persecution is being scolded for praying out loud in the cafeteria at lunch. I have always wanted to be a part of the church that Pastor Wurmbrand describes in his book Tortured for Christ. Since I can't be a part of that myself, I give my favorite characters an opportunity to be a part of it. Both Hogan's Heroes and MASH take place in or near restricted nations, and thus the opportunity to write about one of my passions presents itself quite frequently. For instance, did you know that when America and South Korea briefly held Pyongyang, the church was so grateful that they invited American chaplains to preach at some of their services? When the North recaptured Pyongyang, they began rounding up the Christians who had attended those services and slaughtering them. That historical fact serves as the perfect opportunity to make Father Mulcahy the greatest hero the 4077__th__ has. I wouldn't kill him off, but I'd give him an opportunity to be a part of something I myself have always wanted to be a part of. Now, I've found a way to do that with Hogan's Heroes. I guess you could say that any angst fic I write up to that point is just...practice, as pathetic as that may sound."_

"That's beyond pathetic," Newkirk muttered.

I glanced at some of the other heroes. Carter seemed convinced, LeBeau was scowling, and Hogan and Kinch looked pensive. The German contingent appeared to be somewhat neutral in their attitudes toward me.

"Hey, at least I pay attention to LeBeau," I said. "If I write this story about the Communist takeover of Romania, LeBeau would be one of the canon characters who would get a chance to be a hero. And if it makes Colonel Hogan feel any better, I plan on picking on Marya a bit in this fic."

Hogan's face lit up, but LeBeau looked truly horrified.

"How could you do any such thing?!" he shouted. "Marya is beautiful, pure, and innocent!"

"Cor blimey," Newkirk said, rolling his eyes.

"Order," Harry Stone said in a menacing tone. LeBeau shut up and sunk down in his seat.

"The point is, you wouldn't put the characters through anything that you yourself would not be willing to go through," Mason stated more than asked.

"Basically, yeah," I answered.

"No more questions, your Honor."

"_I've got some questions!" Newkirk shouted, as he and LeBeau jumped to their feet. "Is the witness willing to go through anaphylactic shock?"_

"Or getting blown up?" LeBeau added.

"Sit down, corporals!" the judge shouted. "You are both out of order."

The two men obeyed, but I could feel their eyes boring into me long after the judge allowed me to take my seat among the rest of the defendants.

_**In the televised interview afterward: I know the stuff about Richard Wurmbrand seems long winded and almost pointless, but I think it really helps me make my point that I definitely wouldn't put the characters through anything that I wouldn't be willing to go through myself. Basically they're having the adventures I want to have.**_

*I don't remember where I read the story or what it's called, but it was basically about the various unfinished stories lingering on sites featuring Hogan's Heroes fan fiction. Burkhalter was dressed as a rabbit and nicknamed the "Plot Burky." It was a disturbing mental image.


	38. Wild Card Entry

_Wild Card Entry_

_By Deona Lindholm_

_**South Carolina**_

It was mid afternoon when a yellow bus arrived in front of a home and opened the doors. One young woman got off of it, lunchbox and purse in tow and went towards the house. On the way she checked the mailbox, as she always did.

In the mailbox was the usual mail: bills, magazines, a newsletter from EpilepsyAdvocates, another one from PROParents (the disability advocacy group, not the one involving pregnancy), the newest game from GameFly...

_Wha--? What's this thing? _She thought and looked closely at the writing. _It's addressed to me._

The woman opened the envelope. Inside was a letter and and a little pin. The letter had only two lines written on it.

_Miss Lindholm, your presence is required for a matter regarding the literary arts and your writing work thus far. Expect a call soon._

She picked up the pin and looked at the design. "Cute," she commented as she felt the design, "It looks just like a _Star Trek_ comb--"

That was when she was frozen in place, saw sparkles in front of her eyes, then blackness.

00000

"Well? How did it go?"

"Worked like a charm. She's in the hallway now, waiting for court to resume."

"Good. This plan--"

"It'll work. The newest ones always turn out to be weak links. We get a success from her and this case'll be blown wide open. The writers won't have a chance."

"It had better work. Setting that up wasn't easy."

_**Court, New York**_

Harry groaned as he entered the courtroom. The Fanfic trial was still going on and it was now in its fourth day. Everything that he could try to think of had happened, including one of the authors pulling a disappearing act and taking one of the prosecutors, Riker, with her, another who had let loose a horde of bunnies into the courtroom and caused mayhem and yet another one had tore apart all of said prosecutor's arguments until _he_ looked like a blithering idiot.

Harry shook his head at the memory of that. He had little doubt that Jordre would be cleared.

"All right, let's get this circus act on its way again," Stone said, "Prosecutor, call your next witness."

Even Fielding had to say the name of the next person a bit slowly, "Prosecution calls Deona Lindholm to the stand." He then grumbled, "Swedes."

_Swedish...don't tell me she's one of those illegal immigrants, _Stone thought with an inward groan.

For a moment, the young woman, Deona, widened her hazel eyes as she heard her name being called. _What in the--? Don't tell me I got shanghaied into here, _she thought, then sighed. _Figures. Well, let's see what they're gonna try to pull. Good thing I read the HH section regularly._

Before she could be called to again, she quickly got up and started walking to the stand. For someone as short as she was, big-boned structure and all, she took her place rather quickly.

Hogan took a look at her and said, "Look at that. Doesn't she seem more like a German?"

Newkirk replied, "Right-o. She could pass for a Kraut in a flash."

One of the court officials brought the book and had her put her hand on it. "Do you hereby swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I affirm," she answered immediately. To the surprise of Stone and Fielding, she spoke with a decided lack of accent.

The official looked at her for a moment, thinking, _Doesn't believe in swearing, apparently. Why is it we get that sort here?_

Dan's eyes widened for a moment and he said, "She's not Swedish."

Deona turned to him and replied, "Of course I'm not Swedish. I'm as American as the judge. Sheeze, marry a Swedish guy and everyone jumps to conclusions..."

Stone quickly said, "Let's get back on track here."

"Of course, Your Honor," was the reply.

Fielding stood and ordered, "Give your real name, for the record."

"Deona Lindholm."

"I said your _real_ name, not your pen name."

"It _is_ my real name. Deona Marie Lindholm. I'm not the only writer that uses her name as the pen name."

Other writers made sounds of agreement to that.

"Miss Lindholm, how long have you been writing fanfiction?"

"Just barely over 10 years."

"And how long ago did you start writing for _Hogan's Heroes_?"

"One month."

"And how many fanfics have you written for it?"

"Just one, called _Light From Darkness_."

"I see. Which of these people is the focus on this fanfic?"

"Colonel Wilhelm Klink."

That made Klink pay closer attention to this woman's testimony. _About me?_

Hogan spoke up, "You've got to be kiddin' me. _She_ decided to write about _Klink_?"

"Well she could have done much worse, Hogan. Obviously she has very good taste," the Kommandant replied, smiling and preening.

"They decided to rope in the new talent?" could be heard from the gallery, "Talk about low."

Stone banged the gavel. "Order in the court!"

Almost without thinking, Deona answered, "I'll take a triple Whopper, extra cheese, hold the tomato and onion. Oh, make that a King sized meal with a Coke Zero."

That made all the writers laugh. Bull said, "Now I'm getting hungry. I'll have a nice, meatless salad--"

Again, Stone banged the gavel, "Case first, food second, if you don't mind. Prosecutor, your witness."

"Miss Lindholm," Fielding continued, "Is it true that Klink's life ends by the story's conclusion?"

"Yes. However--"

He tried to interrupt her by saying, "So we--"

She cut right in with, "However, it is also true that when it happened, it was of natural causes. Specifically, old age, and not by torture, murder or execution, so don't even try that angle."

He blinked for a moment and asked, "You're already familiar with this case?"

"Yes, I am. I have my ways of reading about stuff like this regularly."

"She's seen every word we've said?" one writer asked, "and everything that's been done?"

"Sure looks like it. Wonder how she did it?"

Klink looked relieved to hear that his death would be from old age. _Thank Gott for that._

Stone sighed and started to pick the gavel up again. This time, though, the room went quiet without him going through with the motion.

Dan continued, "Now, is it true that there was a deity present when Klink dies in the story?"

"If you want to call her a deity, then yes."

Riker, who was listening in, raised an eyebrow at that.

"And who was this deity mentioned?"

"Millennia, Governess of Time. Known to Germans as _Der Zeit-Shultz_ and to the French as--"

LeBeau spoke up, surprised, "_Madame de garder le temps_."

"Yes, that's correct."

That made Riker groan and rub at the bridge of his nose, suddenly getting a headache. "Damn. Even here, the _Chronosa_, or Guardians, have a hand in things."

"Referring back to the topic of your fanfiction. If you say that you did not inflict torture, murder or execution, why is it that Klink is put through a large amount of grief and humiliation?"

She narrowed her eyes and replied, "Now hold it right there, buster. Yeah, the story's mine, but if you're trying to pin that as being my doings, you're barking up the wrong tree. _Light from Darkness_ is my story, but it's also a companion fic to _In Name Only,_ written by another writer. Some of the material in my fic was already covered in it. I just went into more detail."

"Oh? How about some proof? Who was it if it's not you?"

"Objection! Counsel is badgering the witness!"

"Sustained," Stone replied.

"I'll answer it," Deona said, "It was Bryan Hutchins."

"Miss Lindholm, you have a second story in the works, called _Circles of Chance_, is that correct?"

"Yes. By the way, Mr. Fielding, we haven't had any police officers at my home, and I had not been writing for the fandom when the accounts of the writers were stolen, so that would leave one other option as to how your side gained that information about the second story. Didn't anyone tell you that hacking is illegal? And where was the search warrant during all of this? Also, I'd like to know just how a working Starfleet combadge, triggered to transport upon touch, was placed in my mailbox along with an ambiguous letter."

Dan's mouth opened and closed continuously at this, while Riker's eyes narrowed at her in a dangerous way.

Stone looked at the prosecutor and said, "We're going to have a little talk at the next recess, Fielding."

"Yes, Your Honor," he said and gave her a venomous look.

"You too, Commander Riker."

"Aye, sir."

The writers snickered at both prosecutors apparently being put in the doghouse.

"For now, though, let's get on with this."

"Miss Lindholm, according to several reviews, it is claimed that you know the people that you write about very well, as well as you know yourself. Mind informing the court about this?"

"All I will say about it is that I have abilities of my own, and they involve looking at all aspects to the people, all the different sides to them. Then I put them all together to form the true personalities, or _personas_ as I call them, and write from that. Any more detailed than that and I do believe Mr. Fielding will make the comment about being _cuckoo_."

There was quite an uproar of laughter from the writers and other members of the audience.

"Cor blimey," Newkirk said, "She's dangerous, that bird is."

"Tell me about it," Kinch agreed.

"So with this 'method' of yours, would you say that it is part of their true _personas_ to endure torture or mental/emotional abuse inflicted by you and your fellow writers?"

"Objection! Counsel has not proven that Miss Lindholm inflicted abuse of any sort! I request that it be stricken from the record."

"Sustained. Janet, strike the statement from the record. Fielding, one more time and I will find you in contempt of court!"

"Yes, Your Honor. No further questions." _This is __**not**__ my day._

The defense attorney stood and asked, "Miss Lindholm, in all your writing in 10 years, have you ever gone off character in your stories?"

"No, I haven't."

"So are you saying you wouldn't do anything like put the Germans or Hogan and his men through anything, including situations, that they haven't already been through?"

"That's correct."

"What was the reason for you writing _Light From Darkness_ in the first place?"

"After I read _In Name Only_, I found myself thinking, over and over, 'That's just not right!' After what Klink had to endure in order to keep himself and his brother alive, if he was going to have to live out the rest of his life, ostracized and seen as a total outcast, it was only fitting that he receive mercy at the end."

Klink stared at her for a moment, then said, "I have got to read both her story and this _In Name Only_."

He nodded and said, "No further questions."

"Miss Lindholm, you may step down now."

"Thank you, Your Honor."

"Court is adjourned for one hour for lunch," Stone announced, "Mr. Fielding, Commander Riker...my chambers. _Now_," then banged the gavel.

Deona stepped down and walked around, wondering if she could find one of the writers that could give her a ride to the closest _Burger King_.

_If I'm gonna be stuck in here, I may as well chow down, my way._

_* * * * * *_

Notes: Yes, this is my real personality, and the appearance is my real one, with short blonde hair. Yes, I'm also part German. I have watched not only _ST:TNG_, but also _Night Court_ regularly when I was growing up. It may become apparent, but the reason why I chose "Wild Card Entry" is because while the prosecution team did decide to involve me, regardless of being very new talent, they had no idea that it'd backfire. Oh, and why do I ride a yellow bus to and from work? I work in a sheltered workshop RL.


	39. A Conversation by the Ladies' Room

A Conversation by the Ladies' Room

Submitted by Snooky

* * * * * *

ColHogan and Snooky, the two plaintiff-friendly defendants, found themselves standing on line together outside the ladies' room in the lobby of the courthouse. They had gone together, because that's what women do.

"You know," Snooky said. "I was at a train show with my husband a few months ago, and for once the line was outside the men's room!"

"It's a conspiracy." ColHogan was getting impatient. She had to get back into the courtroom, just in case someone stole her seat.

"You know, Denise, he's manipulating you."

"Well, Duh, Sue, he's manipulating you too!"

"Well, you know, I could use some more manipulation. My back still hurts." Sue rubbed her neck.

"Too much time writing chapters and stories. How many have you written since November?"

"Me? What about you? Three at once?"

The lined continued to snake.

"This reminds me of the lines at Shea Stadium." Sue sighed. She hadn't been to a Mets game in NYC since 1986. The game at Veterans Stadium in Philly didn't count. Although the Mets had won, for once.

"You going to Stalag 13?"

"I don't know," Sue said. "I'm a little scared to tell you the truth. Jewish housewife and Nazi Germany? Don't think so."

"They wouldn't let anything happen to you."

"No, I suppose they wouldn't. Hey is LeBeau good?"

"Good at what?"

Sue laughed. "Cooking, silly."

"Tremendous."

The line snaked some more.

"Did they ask anyone else to go?"

"No clue," Denise said. "Probably just us. After all, we've been friendly."

"I need to calm Olsen down," Sue said.

"He needs a mother." Denise looked at her co-defendant.

"Oh, very nice, I'm not that old. Thank you very much."

"Do you have more stuff for Newkirk?" Denise asked. "I knitted the boys some scarves, see?"

"Ah, but I have more food," Sue replied. "The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Look." She whipped out a Marks and Spencers shopping bag filled to the brim with English treats. Custard, salad cream, marmalade, biscuits. "I ordered it on-line."

"Smart!"

"So, did you find out anything else about Hogan? His family. What he likes to eat. Anything?"

"Nope. They're all basically one-dimensional. No development. Oh, wait. Hogan does like PB&J. Come to think of it, I brought him a sandwich."

"One dimensional. Not at all like MASH." Sue reminisced. "Now that show would give us something to work with."

Denise agreed. "You're absolutely correct. But does it really matter? Think about it."

Sue thought. "Nope." She smiled. "One –dimensional works for me. Does it work for you?"

"No problem." Denise replied. "Shall we get back to court?"

"After you," Sue followed. "I'm ready for more manipulation."

"So am I."


	40. Change of Venue, part 1

Change of Venue, part 1

By El Gringo Loco

* * * * * *

The screen went dark and I was ready to lie down. I had a pretty good notion as to what the conference was about. But I wasn't invited. So Dr. Crusher told me she'd see me later, then called a nurse who escorted me back to my bed. A short time later he brought coffee and left me alone to think.

Coffee on the Enterprise is actually quite good. Hot, strong and black, it reminded me of the Navy coffee I'd encountered on occasion in years past. Not too surprising since Starfleet was to all appearances an extension of the old wet navies. They might sail the stars instead of the seven seas. But they use a lot of the same terminology, which I'm rapidly learning. And both opened up their worlds in a way that nothing else could. Being former infantry, I'd always felt a bit of the traditional rivalry between the land and naval forces. But it was mostly good natured. And when the chips were down, well, there are a lot worse things to have at your back than a covering fleet of determined sailors.

I must have drifted off to sleep. Sometime later a nurse woke me with more coffee, decaf I'm sure, and told me I had a visitor. Silently cursing, I wondered who it might be this time. Much to my surprise, Dr. Crusher came in a few moments later followed closely by Perry Mason. After introducing us, she had the nurse bring coffee for Mr. Mason, then left.

He was like the old TV images, polite and direct. After a few basic inquiries about my health he pulled out a legal pad and got straight to work. I'm not sure how long we talked but I think we were both satisfied with the result. He told me the judge wasn't happy with either the pace of my testimony, or the limitations of the video link. And that as a result they were working on bringing the court to the Enterprise for my next appearance.

I was glad to hear it. Not that I was glad about having to testify. But I too felt that the link was lacking. For one thing, I couldn't see who was in the courtroom. Nor could I judge their reactions. Another reason was that I wanted to call a few witnesses of my own. And assuming that I was allowed to do so at all, I couldn't really question them effectively without being there.

There were a few sticky points, like my request to represent myself. He reminded me of an old saying, "He who acts as his own lawyer has a fool for a lawyer and a jackass for a client." He went on to say that he wouldn't represent himself in anything serious if he could avoid it. And that the judge wouldn't, and ethically couldn't, allow it without a positive report on my state of mind. And of course he advised me to cooperate.

Before he left he asked if I needed anything. There were a couple of items, like my mail and checkbook. I told him who to contact and gave him a written authorization to enter my home. And I asked that he not send them back with Commander Riker, which of course he asked about. Then he told me he'd either bring them himself or send them with Ms. Street. In the end he left me a couple of legal pads, pens and his card. We shook hands and then he was gone.

I felt a bit better after his visit. And when I saw the doctor I thanked her for allowing it. She said something back about Starfleet regulations and humane treatment of prisoners. Still there was no edge to it. And a moment later she asked, "What the Counselor said this afternoon; is that how you really see yourself, as our prisoner?"

"What else can I see it as? I'll grant that you've treated me decently. And that I'd probably have died without your help, for which I am grateful. But, considering that I was brought here by force to stand trial, you may use a different word, but I don't know any other way to describe it."

"And how do you see me and my staff?"

"It's kind of confused. On the one hand you saved my life. And as I said, for that I'm grateful. But on the other, you're part of what's holding me. And while I don't think either you or they would deliberately hurt me without orders. I can't forget that whatever I say, do, or in the case of Counselor Troi think, could come back at me in court."

"My medical team, which includes Counselor Troi, is responsible both to Starfleet and the court for your well being while on ship. And we take that responsibility seriously. If the captain or court asks for our professional judgment, and they have, we'll give it truthfully. But it wasn't our actions that brought you to court in the first place. And it will be the court's decision, not ours, what happens to you." That said she smoothed back her hair, waiting expectantly.

"I understand that, doctor. But can your people understand that I'm not from your time. And because of that there's a lot you might take for granted that I don't?"

"We can. But do you realize that it works both ways. I learned about early space travel in school. You were there and saw it happen. And you probably think of earth's moon as a desolate forbidding place. And in many ways it is. But I was born there and see it as home."

"There's talk of putting an outpost there, primarily as a staging area for planetary exploration."

"That will happen, though not in your lifetime. Luna colony where I was born will eventually grow out of it. I can show you images if you like?"

"Thank you."

"I'll bring them in tomorrow." She left not long after, leaving me to wonder if the day's session might not have been as useless as it first seemed.

The next few days went by rather quickly. Soon it was time to go back to court.

I'd been told they'd first planned to use a holodeck. But there were some questions as to whether we could be sure those testifying were in fact living beings rather than computer constructs. So in the end they decided to use a converted cargo bay instead. They have their own transporters which would make moving people in and out a lot simpler than bringing them through the ship. And with the aid of their transporter and replicator technology, I'm told the whole job was done in a single afternoon. Still, it seemed like a lot of bother to me. It would have been far simpler to take a deposition. That's what they'd done with the Ferengi mess. And that had involved a death. But someone apparently thought it worth the effort. And I had to wonder, 'why?'

Dressed in a suit they'd replicated, I was taken to court in the 24th century version of a wheelchair. And as I entered the courtroom, I could see the scowling faces of the boys from barracks two. Sorry Carter, Mother Nature already took my scalp. And no LeBeau, you can't have my head. I'm still using it. I got a smile and a small wave from the rather attractive woman on Col Hogan's arm and guessed that this was ColHogan. Shultz reminded me of nothing more than a huge overstuffed teddy bear. Which he'd probably have liked, considering that he'd been a toy maker in civilian life. General Burkhalter looked for all the world like a fat walrus. And Klink, of course, was just Klink.

To one side of them sat Major Hochstetter flanked by two women that I guessed were ShadowHawk and Lisal. He glared at me for a moment. Then, with a low growl, scribbled something on some papers he was holding. Having seen transcripts and news accounts of the trial, I'd guessed that I'd just made it onto his infamous list. In one sense I took that as a compliment. Being on the Gestapo man's hate list means you can't be all bad. Besides which, when I thought about who else had to be on there, I figured I was in good company.

There were a fair number of people behind the defense table as well. There were a few curious crew members along with Guinan in her trademark hat. But most of them were well dressed civilian women of various ages. Judging by the odd smiles and sympathetic looks, I'm guessing that these were some of my co-defendants. I wasn't sure who was who. But I could feel the love and was grateful for their support.

One group, the press, was rather conspicuous by their absence. I'd been told that the captain had a serious distrust of the media. By his decree a pool of three reporters would be allowed on ship. Others from the media would have to content themselves with their briefings and watching on planet side monitors.

Finally the bailiff called out, "All rise. The Criminal Court Part II, City of New York, is now in session. Case number 0876707. The honourable Harold T. Stone presiding,"

Taking his seat, the judge began with a few announcements. First was that, regardless of physical or temporal venue, the court would still be operating under 21st century American rules. I'd already been told that. But the next announcement came as a bit of a surprise. He'd granted me limited privilege, conditioned on my good behavior, to call and question witnesses, under the guidance of Mr. Mason, once my own testimony was completed.

Once the formalities were completed I was rolled to the front of the court and helped onto the witness stand. After being duly sworn in, Mr. Mason began.

"El Gringo Loco, in your prior appearances we've established how you chose to be called by that name. Do you use any others within the fan fiction realms?"

"No sir."

"And you choose not to give your real name?"

"That's correct, Mr. Mason. Anyone with a need to know it already does."

Major Hochstetter jumped up. "I want to know."

The judge scowled. "Last warning, Major. We are guests on this ship. And you will behave yourself accordingly. Is that clear?"

Not knowing when he was well off, Hochstetter shook an accusing fist. "What is clear is that you are interfering with a Gestapo investigation."

"That's it, Major. You're in contempt." Livid, the judge turned to Bull the bailiff. "Get him out of here. And ask ship's security to keep him on ice until I send for him."

A moment later Bull towered over the Major, taking him firmly by the arm. "Let's go, buddy."

"Take your hands off me." Hochstetter shook off Bull's restraining hand.

A moment later he was confronted by Lieutenant Worf. He paled as Worf bared his fangs and growled, "You will come with me. Now."

Cheers erupted in the courtroom as the two of them half led, half dragged Major Hochstetter away. Scowling, Judge Stone banged his gavel. "All right folks, the excitement's over. So everybody just settle down. Mr. Mason, you may proceed."

"Thank you, your honor. Now El Gringo, how many fandoms do you read and review?"

I had to think. "I'm not sure, Mr. Mason. But there are several."

"Would you please name a few?"

"Well, besides Hogan's Heroes, there's CSI, Gunsmoke, Robin Hood BBC. I've left some in other realms, including ST:TNG as well."

"And have the characters in any of these other realms complained about the content of these reviews?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"But the so called Boys from Barracks 2 have complained bitterly. I find that interesting. Do you review their stories more harshly than those in the other realms?"

"No Sir. If anything, I've gone a bit easier on them."

"Yet they complain and the others don't. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Objection, your honor," Riker rose to his feet. "That calls for an opinion on the part of the witness."

"Sustained. Mr. Mason, either rephrase your question or move on."

"I withdraw the question, your honor."

It was a maneuver we'd discussed privately. We both knew the judge wouldn't allow me to answer the question. But we did want it in the juror's minds. And in glancing at Judge Stone's expression, he knew exactly what we were up to.

"Now, El Gringo, we previously established that in your reviews, you sometimes leave plot suggestions in the form of questions. Would you please tell us why?"

"The authors sometimes ask for suggestions."

"Is that the only time you leave them?"

"No sir. I sometimes hint at a plot twist that I'd like to see explored."

"Have the authors used any of your suggestions?"

"Quite a few, actually."

"Have you ever communicated directly with the authors, either to make suggestions or offer the benefit of some prior knowledge?"

"I have."

"Could you give us one example?"

Yes, sir. I suggested to Marleen23 that she promote Sgt Shultz to Lieutenant." Looking at the plaintiffs' side I saw Sgt Shultz give me a smile. Both Col Klink and General Burkhalter were looking at him and struggling to keep from laughing.

"Was the sergeant in fact promoted?"

"Yes sir."

"In that same story, the author promoted Sgt Carter to General in the Luftwaffe. Was that your suggestion as well?"

"It was. The story was called Baby Bear. The author was kind enough to give me credit for both suggestions. But I'd prefer that you ask her about anything else regarding it."

"Did you ever suggest that an author kill or injure either Col Hogan or one of his men in one of your reviews?"

"I don't recall suggesting they be killed. But injured, probably."

"Probably?"

"I don't remember a specific instance. But the odds are high that I did."

"Why would you suggest they do something like that?"

"Assuming I did, it would have been a plot device that fit within the context of a particular story."

"And do you feel any remorse or regret for anything that happened as a result of the reviews you've left?"

"None."

"Thank you. No further questions at this time, your honor. But I reserve the right to recall."

"So noted. We'll take a 15 -" He stopped and looked first to me then the wheelchair. "Make that a 20 minute recess."

I could see the cat-like expression on Riker's face. I'm sure he thought he had me. But if the plan Mr. Mason and I had worked out, well, let's just say he had another thing coming.

I was wheeled out of the courtroom. I saw a group from the defense side gathered where ships' crew with replicators were providing refreshments, etc. My nurse ran a scanner over me, then took me to join them. Several women introduced themselves by their sign in names and inquired about my health. Most were thrilled to visit the Enterprise even for this purpose. I felt welcome. And it was good to put faces to the names I'd seen so many times. But alas, our happy meeting was cut short by another reality. It was time.

Again on the witness stand I waited as Riker gave his best impression of a hungry shark. He was clearly trying to make me nervous. But it wasn't succeeding. Finally realizing that his tactics weren't working, he stopped and faced me. I just smiled at him.

"El Gringo Loco. You told the court that you have no regret or remorse for anything you wrote in your reviews."

"That's correct."

"Why do you leave them at all?"

"I leave reviews because, despite the untold hours of hard work, creative energy, imagination and at times, anguish the authors put into their stories, reviews from their fellow fans are the only reward they will ever get for them."

"In other words, you're inciting as well as aiding and abetting them in their efforts."

"I wouldn't put it that way, Commander. But, if you what you mean is, am I encouraging them in their creative efforts? Then I most certainly hope so." That clearly wasn't the answer he was hoping for.

Turning to the judge he said. "Would you please direct the defendant to answer the question as it was put to him?"

"So ordered."

Riker turned back to me. "Shall I repeat the question?"

I smiled. "I wouldn't want to put you to all that trouble, Commander. The answer to your specific question is, no."

"But you just admitted it?"

"No,Commander. I admitted nothing of the kind."

"Liar. We just heard you."

I turned to the judge. "Your honor, I ask that the commander's exact question and my initial answer be read back."

I think Riker was a bit unnerved by my request. But the judge agreed. The reading done, he asked me to explain my request. "Gladly, your honor. The commander is playing word games. His question was loaded with words that have specific legal meanings and imply wrongful actions. My denial was based on those specific definitions, and their implication. And I will stand by it."

A quick glance at the defense table brought a nod and a quick thumbs up from Mr. Mason.

"Your honor, the commander has accused me of lying to the court; a crime. I deny that allegation and ask that it be withdrawn and stricken from the record."

Mr. Mason came to his feet. "Your honor, may I approach the bench?"

"Come on up."

They gathered where I could hear them. Mr. Mason said, "The commander's question was clearly an attempt to trick my client into admitting wrongful actions. My client reworded the question in an attempt to avoid the trap while providing an honest answer. I ask that the court accept his initial answer. Further, that it reject the prosecutor's accusation and direct him to move on."

I watched as Newkirk turned to the Colonel. "Blimey colonel, we got us a bloody barrister up there."

Hogan shook his head, "Worse, he's a talented amateur and that makes him dangerous."

The judge's glare silenced them. Turning back to us he went on. "Commander, both Mr. Mason and -" He paused and looked at me. "His co-counsel are correct. The transcript will stand. But you will either excuse the witness or move on with a different line of questioning."

"Understood, your honor."

The lawyers moved back to their tables as the judge repeated his ruling for the record, closing with, "Commander, proceed."

"Gladly, your honor. El Gringo Loco, you resisted our attempts to serve the subpoena. Is that correct?"

"It would be, if I'd known that's what they were trying to do."

"Do you deny killing one of the servers?"

I'd figured this might come up. The matter was closed. But the question was intended to discredit me in front of the jury. And I could see that it was working. Jaws dropped open all over the courtroom. And it was clear that a wave of revulsion had hit the jury. The boys from barracks 2 looked at each other. Then, leaning forward in their seats, they looked at me. I needed damage control and fast.

"That was ruled self defense, Commander. Considering your invaluable help in closing the matter, I'm surprised you don't remember."

"Then you don't deny it?"

"Absolutely not."

At that point Mr. Mason stood up. "If it please the court."

"Yes, Mr. Mason." Finally.

He held up two documents. "Your honor, I have in my possession copies of two documents which may shed light on this matter. One is my client's sworn deposition as witnessed by a Lieutenant Worf, Head of Security on this vessel, and Lt Commander Deanna Troi, Ship's counselor. The other is the final ruling of Captain Jean Luc Picard on the matter. In which he ruled the death in question to be the accidental and excusable result of an act of self defense. It was witnessed by Commander William Riker, First Officer of this vessel, currently serving as prosecutor in these matters."

Casting a hard glance at Riker, the judge ordered, "Mr. Mason, I want to see those documents right now." Accepting the papers, he took one look and ordered, "We will suspend for five minutes while I examine these documents. Bull, let them move around. But nobody leaves without an escort. Mr. Mason, Commander Riker, my chambers now."

I don't know what was said in the judge's chambers, but there was a lot of speculation in the courtroom. I heard Newkirk's voice saying, "What the bloody -el. He's been cleared and the prosecutor still wants to hang him? What gives, guv'nor?"

"I don't know, Newkirk. But I sure don't like the looks of it." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Kinch, when we get back to camp, ask around and see what you can find out about him."

"Gotcha, Colonel."

The judge gaveled the court back into session a short time later. He said, "There was a question asked earlier that implied serious wrongdoing on the part of this man. The commander has verified the authenticity of the documents Mr. Mason supplied, and will now read a short but relevant portion thereof. Commander."

Looking like he wanted to choke on the words, Riker began reading. "After careful consideration of all facts related to this matter, it is my judgment that the death of Spark, a Ferengi, was caused by a man identifying himself only as El Gringo Loco. A 21st century Terran who does not contest the matter. Based on the autopsy and other evidence presented, it has been determined that the fatal blow was intended to incapacitate rather than kill. And that it was struck as an act of self defense brought on by El Gringo Loco's reasonable belief that his life was in imminent danger. I therefore find that the death in question was accidental and excusable under the circumstances in which it occurred. By these findings I absolve El Gringo Loco of any criminal wrongdoing in this matter. The document is signed; Jean Luc Picard, Captain USS Enterprise, and was witnessed by his First Officer."

"Thank you, Commander. But, before we move on, would you please give us the name and rank of the first officer who witnessed that document?"

"Yes your honor. Commander William Riker, First Officer, USS Enterprise."

"Yourself, Commander?"

"Yes, your honor, myself."

"Thank you, Commander. Do you have further questions for this witness?"

"I do, your honor."

"Would you prefer to ask them now or wait until after the lunch break?"

"After lunch, your honor. If the witness is well enough to attend the afternoon session."

"Thank you, Commander." Then, addressing the entire court, "Lunch provisions have been made for us. But, before we break, I've been asked by ship's security to remind all visitors to remain in the designated areas, unless accompanied by uniformed ship's personnel. And that the badge you were given on arrival is to be kept on your person and visible at all times. Lt. Worf, have you anything to add?"

"Yes, your honor. Any visitors wishing to leave the ship now or after lunch are to remain in the courtroom for instruction." Turning back to the judge he added, "That's all I have, your honor."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. In that case court will recess for ninety minutes."

Dr. Crusher came quietly into the courtroom to check me over. A few cautionary words, a tricorder scan and a couple of injections later, she accompanied me to the lunch area, where she was warmly greeted by the other authors.


	41. Change of Venue, part 2

Change of Venue, part 2

By El Gringo Loco

* * * * * *

Back in court for the afternoon session, I watched from the defense table as Dan Fielding rose from his seat. "Begging your honor's indulgence, the commander has been delayed by ship's business. He should be back shortly."

"What do you mean by shortly?"

"Another ten minutes or so, your honor."

"Thank you Mr. Fielding. Are you ready to cross-examine?"

"I'd prefer to wait for the commander, your honor."

"Fine. Lt Worf, bring me Hochstetter on a plate."

"Of course, your honor." Then indicating Bull, "Might I be permitted the aid of your shield bearer?"

The judge looked to the big bailiff. "Of course. Bull, go with him."

With a grin that would have shaken a California redwood, Worf bowed and then led Bull from the courtroom. Fierce as he is, Worf loves a good joke and has a wild sense of humor. And as I heard the transporter beam, I wondered just what sort of deviltry he had in mind.

We were soon to find out. A short time later I again heard the transporter. The courtroom doors opened widely. Gasps of shock and horror erupted in the courtroom as Worf and Bull entered. Both wore fierce expressions as they guided an anti-gravity cart bearing Major Hochstetter. But this wasn't the major we'd all come to know and despise. No, this was a trembling major, hogtied in his underwear, iced down on a huge platter with an apple in his mouth.

Worf saluted the judge. "Major Hochstetter on a plate as you ordered, your honor. I hope you'll find him properly chilled." Muffled sounds of protest could be heard from behind the apple.

Suppressing shock, the judge pulled on his poker face. "Thank you, Lieutenant, Bull." Then addressing the crowd he announced, "Alright folks, I'll suspend for one minute while you get it out of your system."

From the character's side there were widely differing reactions. Le Beau wore a fierce smile. I heard a cockney accent say, "Blimey, guv'nor, I hope they don't try feeding him to us."

A horror stricken Klink turned to Gen Burkhalter. "I know it's Hochstetter, but General, please. You have to do something."

Struggling to conceal his amusement, the general folded his arms and looked appraisingly at the trussed up major. "What do you suggest Klink? That I should offer to carve?" Sighing, he rose to his feet. "Your honor, the major may be an arrogant blustering fool, but I doubt he'd taste very good. So, if he would agree to apologize and beg your forgiveness, then sit quietly and offer no further disrespect, I would take responsibility for his conduct. Would you be willing to turn him over to me?"

Shaking his head vigorously, Hochstetter turned an imploring eye to the court. Addressing Worf the judge asked, "He looks like he might be a bit tough and stringy to me. What do you think Lieutenant?"

"Unfortunate, but true, your honor. Still, with a good marinade?"

"Maybe, but he's probably not worth the bother. General, if I turn this man over to you, have I your word as a German officer that he'll be punished?"

"My word as a German officer, your honor."

"Thank you, General." The judge leaned over the bench scowling at the trussed up man. "Major, if I take that apple out of your mouth am I going to hear an apology or not?"

Looking up to see Worf's fang filled grin, Hochstetter shuddered. Turning his head to Gen Burkhalter, then to the judge, he nodded vigorously. The judge then ordered, "Alright Lieutenant, take out the apple."

For a moment Hochstetter sputtered. Finally he choked out, "I apologize for this morning's outburst, your honor. And - - -"

Folding his arms the judge growled, "You apologize and what, Hochstetter?"

When Hochstetter again hesitated, Worf asked helpfully, "Shall I start mixing the marinade, your honor?"

"Nein, nein, I apologize, your honor. And, and I humbly ask your forgiveness. Just please, get this thing away from me."

Still growling the judge replied, "That thing is a Klingon warrior and an officer on this ship, Major, and I think you owe him an apology as well."

"Ya, Ya. I apologize, your honor. I apologize. Just keep him away from me."

"He's all yours, General. But I warn you that if he gets out of line again, I'll turn you both over to the Lieutenant and his friends. Lieutenant, untie him. We'll take 10 while he gets his clothes on."

The break was soon over and Riker had returned. So, once again, it was my turn on center stage.

Still smarting from what was likely a fairly savage dressing down, Riker began.

"El Gringo Loco. You don't like Major Hochstetter much, do you?"

"He's Gestapo, what's there to like?"

"You recently posted your first story in this realm. Would you please tell us its title?"

"It's called, Hochstetter's Fate."

"You posted it after this trial began, as I recall."

"That's correct."

"Didn't you in fact publish it after the subpoena was issued for your appearance?"

Mr. Mason's hand shot up. "Objection, your honor. Irrelevant. The defendant wouldn't have known he'd been issued a subpoena until it was served."

"Sustained. Proceed, Commander."

"El Gringo, were you aware that this trial was taking place before you published your story?"

"I was."

"And is it true that in your story you have Major Hochstetter hanged and sent to Hell?"

"Only after he was given a reasonably fair trial, convicted of capital crimes and sentenced accordingly."

"Reasonably fair?"

"I've got issues with the way the war crimes trials were convened and conducted. Particularly in the British zone. But they're irrelevant to these proceedings."

"Alright. Do you deny that your story included wholesale slaughter?"

"No."

"Is it true that you killed these men in an incredibly hideous fashion?"

"That depends on how you define incredibly hideous."

"You shot, hanged and burned them alive."

Moments later Klink, Hilda, Hogan and his men lay unconscious on the floor. Hogan and his men were having difficulty breathing. Doctor Crusher and my nurse were already on their feet when the judge yelled, "MEDIC!" Courtroom differences were put aside as two concerned authors also rushed to the stricken men's aid. And I was glad to see my faith in the younger generation vindicated.

I saw the two ladies accompanying Colonel Hogan drop to their knees beside him. The taller, ColHogan, busily loosened his restrictive clothing, while the shorter, Snooky, applied what could only be an advanced and intensive form of mouth to mouth resuscitation. Their obvious concern for him was heartwarming, and I had no doubt that he'd recover.

There were similar efforts being made for the other victims. Even Dan Fielding tried to help revive Fraulein Hilda. Alas, prince charming he isn't. But she did respond favorably when General Burkhalter shoved him aside and took over.

Riker, on the other hand, simply stood there, looking smug. Judging by his expression, he probably figured he had me. What he didn't know, yet, was that he was playing pinochle, not poker. And that I was holding the aces, kings and queens of trump. The question was when to play them, and how.

All were recovered and order restored within a few minutes. Doctor Crusher ran her scanner over each of those who had been effected as they returned to their seats. Then, turning to the judge, she shook her head. "I don't understand, your honor. One minute we have mass casualties. The next it's like it never happened. I've never seen anything like it."

I think every author in the crowd heard her, but none of them showed any concern, although I could hear the gears turning in their fertile minds. "We've been getting that a lot, doctor. But it's never been that bad." He paused for a moment. "Doctor, do any of these folks need further care?"

"Not that I can see. A couple are showing minor signs of smoke inhalation. But otherwise they'll be fine."

"Thank you, Doctor; you and your nurse, for everything."

"Just doing our jobs."

"Then if everything is under control we'll try again. You may proceed, Commander. But please, take it easy on the descriptions."

"That might be difficult, your honor. But I'll try." He looked at me. ""El Gringo Loco. Do you deny that your story caused the pain and suffering you just saw?"

"Absolutely."

"But how can you deny the evidence of your own eyes?"

"Easily."

"How?"

"Because it wasn't real. And what you just saw wasn't caused by my story."

"You sound so sure of yourself."

"That, Commander, is because I am."

"I'd like to hear how you could be?"

"Give me a few witnesses and I'll prove it to you."

"Are you sure of that, too?"

"Absolutely."

The judge interrupted. "I don't know what it is between you two, but this verbal sparring is sure starting to sound personal. El Gringo, you'll get to call witnesses. In the meantime, Commander, might I suggest you try a different approach."

"Point taken, your honor. El Gringo, you wrote this story after the trial started. Why?"

"It was as good a time as any."

"Were there other reasons?"

"Of course there were."

Hands in the air, Riker turned to the judge. "Your honor, the defendant is being evasive and uncooperative."

"That's a matter of opinion, Commander. He's answered every question you've asked, and he's been quite definite in most of them. So, I'd say he's cooperating."

Clearly upset by the judges ruling, Riker turned his attention back to me. "El Gringo, aside from, 'it felt right at the time', why did you write Hochstetter's Fate?"

"I had recently finished reading Ms Margolis and Robin's work, The Many Deaths of Major Hochstetter. I'd found it hilarious, and even suggested a couple of scenarios by private message."

"What were they?"

"One was an accidental hanging while he was attempting to bug a ceiling fan. The other was a bathtub electrocution. He was listening to the radio while in the bathtub. He jumped up to salute when Hitler interrupted his music program and accidentally knocked it in."

"And were either of these scenarios used?"

"No. I offered them mid-series, mostly in hopes of a continuation or sequel. But it was already planned out to the end."

"So, what was it about that particular story that inspired you to write Hochstetter's Fate?"

"I think it was the fact that most of these were funny. But none was the fate I thought he deserved."

"So, you think death is funny?"

"In fiction it can be. Depending on how it's used."

"What about in real life?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I've seen a lot of people die for a lot of reasons, Commander. I was an Army medic. And I worked in the health field for a long time afterwards. Between that and the fact that I've been close enough to the grim reaper to shake her hand on more than one occasion, maybe you'll understand why I could never think that."

One hard glare and a long exasperated sigh later, Riker asked, "Your honor, might I have a moment to confer with my co-counsel?"

"Of course."

Leaning across the table he and Fielding spoke in whispers. A moment later they changed places, and an eager but wary Dan Fielding said, "Now, Senor El Gringo Loco or whoever you really are, let's try this again."

I could see that he was puffing himself up, trying to intimidate me. I spoiled his moment mid puff by telling him, "Fine. Bring it on."

Suddenly a lot less sure of his pompous self, he asked, "Are you even aware of how serious this matter is?"

"Perhaps you'd be kind enough to enlighten me?"

"You killed hundreds in your story, including that poor woman sitting next to the guy with the monocle. Why did you kill that sweet, innocent thing?"

"Her first name is Hilda, counselor. I don't believe her last was ever mentioned in the series. And the baldheaded guy with the monocle is Oberst Wilhelm Klink, of the Luftwaffe."

"What do you mean by, Oberst?"

Rolling my eyes skyward, I replied, "Oberst is the German military designation for what we'd call a full colonel."

"Then why didn't you just call him Colonel?"

"I was giving him the courtesy of calling him by his proper rank." I saw Klink give me a quick nod.

"Alright, back to my first question. Why did you hang poor sweet, innocent little Hilda?" She grabbed at her throat.

"I had Hochstetter hang her for the same reason I had him torch Colonel Hogan and his men." Again they fell to the floor. "I was trying to show just how cold blooded and evil the Gestapo really was."

"And you think making that point justifies the incredible pain and suffering you put them through."

"They're fictional constructs, not real persons, so, yes."

"And you have no sense of guilt or remorse for doing so."

"Why should I? As I said, they're not real."

"Real or not, don't they have rights?"

"They are property and, as such, they have no rights."

"They can't be property, they're people."

"Then counselor, may I suggest you take a refresher course in copyright law? Every episode of their show and yours contained a notice that it was copyright, along with a date and a name. As such, the named holder of that copyright owned the title, concept and all original characters contained therein. It also reserved unto themselves sole right of profit and all other rights pertaining there to."

"So?"

"So, it's been illegal under Federal Law to buy, sell, or own people in this country since the 1860's, Mr. Fielding. Therefore, since the copyright holders claim of ownership is recognized and protected in law, a reasonable man would have to assume that they are property. And I know of nothing in either statute or case law that gives property, whether real, personal or intellectual the right to bring suit in a court of law."

"Sports figures get sold all the time. And that's legal."

"Wrong again, Mr. Fielding. What's sold are contracts for services that the sports figures themselves have agreed to. Not the person's physical being."

"How would you know, you said yourself you're not a lawyer."

"I don't claim to be one. And I'm starting to wonder if you should either."

"That's slander."

"No counselor, it isn't. Because I phrased it as a question - 'I wonder if you should claim?' - not as a declarative statement like, 'You shouldn't claim.'"

"Whoa." The judge interrupted. "I've seen his law license El Gringo. And Dan, he's right about it not being slander. So I suggest you move on."

"I'm done with him, for now. But I reserve the right to recall."

"Thank you. Mr. Mason, do you have any further questions for this defendant?"

"I do, your honor. El Gringo, in your story you had the major charged separately for the murder of Corporal Peter Newkirk. Why was that?"

"There were two reasons, Mr. Mason, both of which have to do with points of British law in effect at the time."

"Would you please enlighten us as to those points?"

I could see that I had Newkirk's undivided attention. "The British Royal Warrant of June 14, 1945, was one of the documents under which the trials, notably at Belsen, were convened. It authorized trials under British law for enemy personnel who had committed crimes against British subjects, including military personnel, regardless of where they occurred. I have issues with some of its provisions. But in order to bring Major Hochstetter under British authority, he had to be charged with the murder of a named British subject. In this fandom, RAF Corporal Peter Newkirk was the obvious choice."

"Interesting. But in reality, Hammelburg, Germany was in the American occupation zone. So, I'm curious as to why you gave it to the British?"

"I noted that historical discrepancy in my disclaimers, Mr. Mason. But I did it because, unlike our current system of interminable appeals, the British legal system at that time was a very no nonsense operation. Once handed down, all British death sentences were referred to the Home Office for review. Baring its intervention, the average time between sentence and execution was approximately three weeks."

"Three weeks? That's pretty fast."

Mr. Mason started to ask another question but the judge cut him off. "I'm finding this discussion of British Law rather interesting, Mr. Mason. But I believe the defendant has more than adequately answered your question. So, could we pursue it at another time?"

"Of course, your honor. Now, El Gringo, you also portrayed Hitler as the devil incarnate. Why was that?"

"That idea came from a 1942 Warner Brother's movie called Casablanca. I've seen it used in other media, notably cartoons, produced during the war as well."

"You had a rather interesting twist at the end. Would you care to tell us about it?"

"I viewed it as depicting the classic triumph of good over evil. It was inspired by the song, The Impossible Dream from the Man of La Mancha."

The voice of Robert Goulet fills the courtroom. "To fight for the right without question or pause. To be willing to march into Hell for a Heavenly cause."

"No further questions, your honor."

"Commander, Mr. Fielding?"

Both prosecutors slumped in their seats. Riker mumbled. "Not at this time, your honor."

"The witness may step down."  
____________________________________________________________


	42. ShadowHawk is Recalled to the Stand

ShadowHawk is Recalled to the Stand

* * * * * *

"I would like to call ShadowHawk back to the stand, your honor," Riker announced.

"Thank God!" Hochstetter cried. He pointed a finger at the girl seated next to him. "This girl has been harassing me non-stop for days now!"

"More of her Random Thoughts about you?" Harry asked, not really caring about the Gestapo major.

"No! Not anymore! She either ran out or got bored, because now she has taken to singing songs to me that she claims either fit me in some way or fit how she feels about me! And in all honesty, I'd prefer the Random Hochstetter Thoughts!" he complained.

"Hey! That better not be a crack about my singing voice!" ShadowHawk warned.

"I don't need to make a crack about your voice; it cracks all by itself!" Hochstetter retorted.

"It does not!" ShadowHawk shouted indignantly. "Well… maybe it does a little after singing some Death Metal… er, 'screaming' would be the better word to use for that…. But the point still remains! I'm actually not that bad! Thank you very much!"

"I beg to differ," muttered Hochstetter.

"Keep it up, man, and that won't be the only thing you're begging for!" ShadowHawk threatened.

"I don't really like the way you're speaking to him!" Angel spoke up. ShadowHawk looked at her.

"Yeah? Well, drop dead!"

"You can't talk to Lisal like that!!" an enraged Hochstetter yelled.

"Oh, I can't? Too late! So, whaddya gonna do 'bout it, huh?! Mr. Hot-Shot-Gestapo-Man!" the girl taunted. "'Cuz I got three things to say: Bring. It. On."

Angrily, Hochstetter took out his ever-growing list and added ShadowHawk to it. The girl in question shook her head.

"Nope. Gotta do better than that, Wolfie!"

In one swift motion, ShadowHawk swiped Hochstetter's list right out of his hand and shoved the paper in her mouth, proceeding to eat it. Some people backed away from her a little bit.

"You're crazy!" Harry exclaimed.

"I know," ShadowHawk admitted. "But look at it this way," she continued while chewing the paper in her mouth, "if he wants this list back, he's going to have to go in after it. Now isn't _that_ a pleasant thought!"

"No… not really…"

She finished chewing and swallowed Hochstetter's list of names. "There. That ties up that loose end. Now. Am I being called back to the stand or something?"

"Yes," Riker answered, "if you don't mind. And please refrain from trying to eat the chair, too."

"Why? Does the chair also have a list that I should know about?"

"Just take a seat."

"Okay."

ShadowHawk got up and looked down at Hochstetter and Angel.

"I hate you," Hochstetter growled.

"Me too," Angel added.

"Oh, well we're all one big hate triangle now, aren't we?" ShadowHawk replied with a smile before making her way to the front of the courtroom. Once up in front of everyone she was sworn in. Looking at the cover of the book, she noticed that it was about physics, and her hand hovered over it.

"Physics?" she asked with dread in her voice. "Why physics?! Physics is EVIL!"

Bull looked down at the book and then up at the girl with confusion apparent on his face.

"Had some bad experiences with physics in the past, have you?" Harry questioned.

"Ugh! To say the least! I HATED that class!" ShadowHawk replied.

"Just put your hand on it so we can move on!" Riker ordered impatiently.

"Meh… fine…" She then placed her hand on the book hesitatingly. "Just note that touching this… this… incarnation of evil is done so under protest!"

"It has been noted. Now, can we please continue?" Riker said.

"Fine. Boy, aren't you impatient today!" ShadowHawk commented while taking her seat. She made herself comfortable and kept smiling pleasantly despite the death glare Hochstetter was giving her from across the room. Riker took a moment to prepare himself. His real target wasn't the girl, but he needed her in order for his real plan to succeed.

"Now, ShadowHawk, you have been following the trial since the beginning, is that correct?"

"Yep."

"And you know why you're here?"

"Yeah, because of that whole emotional distress thing."

"Do you feel responsible for any of it?"

"Eh… Only a little, 'cuz I mean, the stuff I've written so far hasn't been really _that_ bad, and I am capable of being much worse, and there are others that have written worse stuff than I have--- in the angst department, I mean--- so, I feel as if I've only contributed a little, tiny bit to the whole issue," ShadowHawk explained.

"And would you say that this trial has influenced your writing in any way?" Riker continued.

"Objection! I would like to know where the prosecution is going with this?" Mason spoke up.

"So would I," Harry agreed. "Commander, please try to get to the point."

"Yes, your honor," Riker responded, "I'm getting there. Would the witness please answer?"

ShadowHawk had zoned out and had a blank expression on her face. When the commander addressed her, she snapped out of it. "Answer what?" ShadowHawk asked.

"My question," Riker clarified. "Are you even paying attention?"

"I'm trying… but it can be difficult at times. Ya see, I have ADD."

"I'm sorry about that, but would you please just answer my question?"

"Oh! You mean about my writing?" ShadowHawk asked and was met with an affirmative nod from Riker. "Oh, well, if you mean to ask whether or not I'm gonna stop writing angsty stuff, then, no, I don't think I am. I'm still gonna continue working on my vampire story---I've got about half of the prologue done, so why should I throw all that away?"

"So you don't care about what it does to the plaintiffs?" Riker wanted clarification.

"Of course I care, but like I explained before, by putting them through hell, it's my way of honoring their strength."

"So you are not denying that you still intentionally plan to cause these characters extreme distress? Even though that's what you're on trial for in the first place?" Riker asked.

"No, I'm not denying it," ShadowHawk answered. "I mean, I know our actions as authors is what brought a lot of us here in the first place, but what happens when it's the _characters_ that cause _us_ extreme distress? What happens then? Do we bring _them_ to trial?"

"Explain yourself," Riker ordered. He was caught off-guard by the sudden topic change.

"Alright. For example, Major Hochstetter has caused my brother severe distress. Whenever I mention his name, my brother usually ends up running away from me."

"But that is the result of what_ you_ say about Hochstetter; the major is not directly responsible."

"Fine…" ShadowHawk's face scrunched up in thought and displeasure about her weak point being shot down before it could even begin. Suddenly, she perked up. "Well, what about the distress he's caused _me_?"

Riker was about to respond when Hochstetter cut him off.

"_I've caused you_?!" the major repeated, dumbfounded. "Honestly _Fräuline_, do you even listen to yourself talk?

"Meh… I fade in and out…" she replied casually. "And what did I say about the '_Fräuline_' thing!"

Harry banged his gavel a couple of times.

"Enough of this, both of you!" he demanded. "Commander Riker, please continue."

"Thank you, your honor." Riker walked up to ShadowHawk. "Now, would you please explain to me and the court exactly what the heck you're talking about?"

"Well, I mean the whole Angel thing!" ShadowHawk clarified. "I mean, before, we were hanging out and he was treating me pretty nicely---at least, for a Gestapo man---and then, bam! Out of nowhere, Angel shows up and what does he do? He tosses me aside like an old shoe! Did he even stop to think if I have abandonment issues? No! So why isn't _he_ on trial when he caused me emotional distress? Albeit, very temporary distress, but that still doesn't change the fact that it hurt initially! So where's the justice in that? I'll tell ya where: there isn't any, because life is just not fair, but you don't hear me whining and complaining about it! Instead, I decided to take some action!"

"And that's exactly what the plaintiffs are trying to do! Take action!" Riker stated. "And Hochstetter's not the one that's on trial!" _At least, not yet…_ he added to himself; he had gotten wind of Hochstetter's attempts to use the girl to write his own stories and he planned on exposing that to the court. All he needed was to get ShadowHawk to admit it…

Meanwhile, the girl in question was quiet for a moment.

"Oh. Yes… Well, I… I see your point…" she said quietly. "That rant was completely pointless and pathetic then, wasn't it…"

"I would say so," Mason commented from his table. Riker nodded in agreement.

"All right, then… Lets pretend it never happened. It's okay, though; I'm used to feeling like an idiot…"

"Let's try to stay on topic, people," Harry said, working on another mad-lib. Riker resumed his questioning.

"So, needless to say, you don't like Angel, or Hochstetter for the way he treated you," Riker summarized, slowly moving into his real attack.

"Well, not right now, because she took Hochstetter away from me. But in the story she was in, I actually kinda liked her; I could identify and relate to her, so it made the story even more enjoyable. I didn't, however, expect her to show up here and steal Hochstetter from me. And as for Hochstetter---"

"Try to keep your answers brief; we don't need a novel each time," Riker interjected.

"All right, fine. So, no; at the current time, I am not particularly fond of them. Not so much Angel, though; it's more jealousy with her, but Hochstetter? Yeah, I'm not too thrilled with him right now. That brief enough?" ShadowHawk asked.

"That's… better… But try a little harder," Riker replied. He couldn't help but smile; ShadowHawk was obviously not feeling very loyal towards Hochstetter, making the possibility of her turning on him all the more real. The trial itself did not seem to be going very well for the prosecution, and Riker wanted to have _some_ kind of victory… And if he could prove his hunch about Hochstetter, he was well on his way. He continued to pursue the Angel topic.

"So, ShadowHawk, do you know why she was brought back for the trial?"

"Objection! Leading the witness and irrelevance," Mason claimed.

"Unless you have a point, Commander, move on," Harry said.

"I do, your honor. Now, would the witness please answer?" Riker replied.

ShadowHawk took a deep breath, her gaze wandering over to both Hogan and ColHogan. They looked pretty comfortable together, reminding her of when she was able to be that comfortable with Hochstetter before Angel came into the picture.

"...Yes, I do know."

"Would you please elaborate for the court."

"It was to keep me from hurting Hogan and his men, from allowing Hochstetter to win..." Her eyes fell on Hochstetter. "It was to break up the ShadowHawk and the Black Wolf... To keep us from writing together..."

Many of the spectators looked at each other questioningly, wondering who this mysterious co-author was. Why hadn't he or she been mentioned before? The exception was Major Hochstetter, who immediately sat up straight, becoming nervous, and glared at the girl on the witness stand.

_Would she really betray me like that? Is she selling me out?_

Riker, sensing his opportunity, approached the stand.

"And just who is the Black Wolf?" he inquired. He waited eagerly for her answer.

ShadowHawk hesitated. The moment that passed seemed like an eternity to both her and Hochstetter.

"Your honor, would you please instruct the witness to answer?"

"Answer the question, ShadowHawk."

She still hesitated. "I... I can't..."

"Then let me rephrase it," Riker suggested, sensing her weakness and using it to his advantage. "It's obvious how highly you thought of Major Hochstetter. Is it not true that he is, in fact, 'Black Wolf?'"

There were gasps heard in the courtroom and everyone was silent, not wanting to miss the answer. ShadowHawk bit her lip and quickly caught Hochstetter's glare. Even from across the courtroom, she stared deep into his eyes, trying to make a decision.

"Your honor..." Riker sighed. Harry opened his mouth to address the girl, but she answered before he could say anything.

"No. It's not true."

Riker's jaw practically dropped to the ground as a mixture of shock and disbelief descended upon those who knew the truth. Meanwhile, Hochstetter released the breath he didn't even know he was holding. _Did she just lie for me???_ he thought to himself, probably more shocked than anyone else in the room.

"I beg your pardon?" Riker sputtered.

"Hochstetter is _not_ the Black Wolf," ShadowHawk restated. "And he has nothing to do with my writing process. My stories are my own and I'm the sole individual with whom the responsibility rests. And regardless of whatever feelings I may have for him right now, the story of his ultimate revenge upon Hogan shall not be abandoned, regardless of the whole Angel situation."

_She __**did**__ just lie for me...!_ Hochstetter still couldn't believe it; he thought she hated him because of Lisal...

"May I remind you the consequences of committing perjury are quite severe?" Riker asked, still in shock as his plans came crashing down around him.

"I don't see how it's committing perjury," ShadowHawk responded calmly. "I'm not lying."

ShadowHawk really didn't care about the consequences. Despite however mad and hurt she was, she still would _never _betray her Wolfgang. Riker was caught off-guard by the sudden display of loyalty and was becoming frustrated over it.

"You just stated that he caused you extreme distress, did you not?"

"Yes, I did."

"You were determined to get even with him, were you not? So determined, that we all got caught in the crossfire of your attempts to disturb him! Isn't that right?"

"Yes. It is."

"I thought you were enraged at him."

"That's right; I was. And still am."

"Then why are you defending him, if he hurt you that badly?!" Riker couldn't believe what was happening. He had thought he was on his way to legal victory.

"I'm not defending him, because he has nothing to do with it," ShadowHawk said again. "But even if he was involved, I still wouldn't betray him! I know well what betrayal feels like, and I'd never wish it on anyone! Not even Hochstetter! ---Well... maybe I'd wish it on Hitler or something... along with a few other things... but that's beside the point!"

"I just don't know what to say..." Riker stated truthfully and disappointedly. He still could not fathom why this girl was so devoted to a monster like Major Hochstetter. "I have no further questions."

"Really?" Harry asked incredulously. "Are you sure?"

"My mind is blank. I'm just stunned."

"All right, then... Mr. Mason, do you wish to redirect?"

"No, your honor." Mason was thrilled that Riker didn't pursue the situation; he was worried that he'd have to come up with the defense plan of a lifetime.

Harry raised both eyebrows at what had just happened in his courtroom. He then turned to ShadowHawk. "Okay... ShadowHawk, you may step down... And you don't have anything else to say?" he asked. He, as well as everyone else who had listened to ShadowHawk throughout the trial, had become accustomed to the girl chattering on and on, and almost expected her to have something else to say. She didn't disappoint them entirely, but kept her answer brief.

"Yes. Two words... No regrets."

Without saying another word, ShadowHawk stood up calmly and stepped away from the stand.

"All right... We'll have a 20-minute recess before we continue."

With that said, Harry banged his gavel. ShadowHawk continued walking down the courtroom towards the doors, feeling everyone's eyes on her, especially Major Hochstetter's. Despite how much she wanted to, she didn't even glance at the major as she walked passed him, so calmly and collectively that she seemed to practically float by. She exited the room without looking back once.

After the semi-dramatic exit, life appeared to return to the courtroom. Slowly, the other spectators stood up and began to clear out of the room. Hogan faced the woman seated next to him.

"Did that really just happen? You saw it too, right?" he asked ColHogan, who nodded in the affirmative.

"Yeah."

"And you _did_ see her writing with Major Hochstetter before?"

"Yes, I did!"

"And you're sure you heard her call him 'Black Wolf'?"

"I heard it with my own ears!" replied ColHogan.

"Then how could she..." Hogan trailed off, trying to figure out how ShadowHawk could do what she did. "How can someone be _that_ devoted??"

ColHogan shrugged and shook her head, indicating that she didn't know. Deep down, though, she could somewhat begin to understand how ShadowHawk felt and wondered what she herself would've done to defend Hogan in a situation like that.

On the other side of the courtroom, Hochstetter stood up without wasting much time. He turned to face Angel.

"I'll be back, Lisal. I just need to have a little chat with ShadowHawk," he explained. Angel looked up at him.

"You promise you'll be right back?" she asked, staring into his eyes.

"_Ja_, of course," he promised, sealing it with a kiss. Angel smiled at him.

"All right. Hurry back, _Liebchen_."

Without any hesitation, Hochstetter began to make his way through the crowd of people as quickly as he could. Needless to say, he had some pressing questions for ShadowHawk.

He got through the doors and looked around, trying to spot his target amidst the sea of faces. When he couldn't find her, he spent a few minutes looking around the building, but to no avail. He decided to expand his search and walked out the court house doors, scanning the premises.

Finally, he found her outside the building, away from everyone and by herself. Hochstetter approached her until there was a few feet in distance between them. She stood with her back to him and seemed unaware of his presence. Her eyes were closed as she focused on feeling the soft breeze on her face, silently meditating. She looked to be the very picture of calm, despite what had occurred mere minutes ago inside the court house.

"... Jacquie?" Hochstetter called softly, using the girl's real name as opposed to her alias.

ShadowHawk's eyes opened; she could recognize that voice anywhere. She turned her head just enough so that she could see the major out of the corner of her eye, but still did not face him completely.

"How do you know my name, Major?"

Hochstetter took a small step closer as he answered. "I saw it on your computer. And I also saw that you sign all of your artwork with the initials "JD", so I put the two together."

"Oh..." was the only reply. ShadowHawk then turned away from him, closing her eyes once more as she tried to direct her attention back to the subtle winds. The gentle gales brushed her out-grown bangs to either side of her face, and she took a deep, steady breath, trying to block out the major's presence. Hochstetter slowly closed the space between them, and didn't stop until he was right behind her.

"Jacquie..." he started, suddenly finding it difficult to organize the many questions racing in his mind. All he managed to say was, "... Why?"

ShadowHawk sighed and knew that this was coming. It was impossible for her to ignore him when he was standing so close. She didn't answer right away, though, and could practically feel the expectant look he was giving her. However, surprisingly, he waited for her to reply on her own, without prompting.

"I am devoted," she said at last. "One thing that has never, _ever_ been questioned by _anybody_ is my loyalty to those I care about. And for some unknown reason---unknown even to me--- I care about you, Major."

"But, why? Why do you care so much?"

"I wish I knew..."

"You mean to tell me, you don't even know yourself?"

"Right… I stopped questioning it a long time ago and just started embracing it. It's so much easier not to fight…"

"I guess I just don't understand," Hochstetter sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder to turn her around to face him. "I thought you hated me now…"

"No, I never really hated you," ShadowHawk said immediately. "I was just mad at you."

"Then, all that aggravating and annoying you did?" Hochstetter could feel a migraine rising just thinking about it. A small smile appeared on her face shortly as she turned her head from him.

"Ever heard the saying: 'You always hurt the ones you love?'"

"You love me?"

"Yes… Or at least, I think I do…"

"Are you sure 'love' isn't too strong a word for it?"

ShadowHawk shook her head. "No. Not for the way I feel. But let me try to put it in a way you might understand…" She turned to face him again, looking into his eyes. "How much do you love Ang--- er, Lisal? What would you do for her?"

"I love her with all my heart. I would do anything for her. I would kill for her. I'd even die for her," Hochstetter replied honestly.

"And if something happened to her? Like, if you lost her?"

"I already lost her once," Hochstetter replied, shuddering at the memory, "and it almost destroyed me. But now that I have her back, if I were to lose her again… I don't know what I'd do…"

ShadowHawk nodded. "Now you know how I feel," she said. Hochstetter looked at her, inquiry in his eyes, prompting ShadowHawk to elaborate further. "Put yourself in my place," she began. "After believing that you would never lay eyes upon your beloved, she comes into your life as something more than memories and dreams, accepting you for a short while."

Hochstetter closed his eyes and thought back to when he saw his Lisal again, after thinking she was gone for good. The memory caused him to smile. ShadowHawk continued.

"Now imagine that she has fallen for another man and wants nothing more to do with you. She casts you away. The two of you become enemies."

Hochstetter imagined the scenario as ShadowHawk described it. The artificial image in his mind made him feel heartbroken and sick to his stomach. He shook his head, trying to rid the thought from his mind, hoping to repress the crippling pain in his heart that it caused, finding it rather difficult. ShadowHawk nodded again sadly.

"And now you know how I feel."

Hochstetter opened his eyes and looked at the girl in front of him, able to understand her a bit more. His gaze was filled with new-found sympathy as he could at last grasp the concept of her situation. ShadowHawk seemed calm, though… like she had finally accepted a very hard fact. She knew that the trial was drawing to a close, and that she would probably never see him again, but she felt she had to explain herself to him; not just for his sake, but for her own.

"I realize that it would never work out between us; I know that you love Lisal, and all I want is for you to be happy... I mean, you deserve it, just as everybody else does... And you're one of the fortunate ones who has found someone to love and be loved by..."

She turned away again, unable to face him any longer. Just saying this to him without crying and clinging to him was already hard enough.

"I... I wish you the best, Wolfgang. I know you'll be a good father to your children, despite the childhood that I created for you..."

ShadowHawk paused as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but without much success; her mouth had never been as dry as it was at that moment. Exhaling a shaky breath, she forced herself to finish what she started, still incapable of facing him.

"I only hope that one day I, too, am able to find someone who reciprocates my feelings for them..."

Hochstetter had listened closely to everything she said, considering each word carefully. Perhaps this is what allowed him to detect the faint undertones of pain and despair in her voice, probably even more so than she did herself. He could finally see now just how hard this was for her. He smiled softly at the girl and brought a hand to her face, gently urging her to look at him again. Slightly hesitant, but obliging nonetheless, she allowed her gaze to be pulled back into his own, eyes of reluctance soon finding those of understanding.

"You will," he whispered encouragingly. "If I can do it, so can you."

ShadowHawk looked down, breaking the eye contact in an attempt to keep herself from crying. Hochstetter, however, kept his gaze upon her.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out, Jacquie. I really am."

The girl's eyes had slid shut. "Would you be opposed to a hug, _Herr Major_?" she asked quietly. Hochstetter smirked warmly and put his arm around her, drawing her body close to his own. She eagerly embraced him and tried desperately not to squeeze the life out of him. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the synchronization of their heartbeats. Granted, hers was going about twice as fast as his, but there was still _some_ common rhythm. All she wanted was for that moment to last forever. But time was not on her side, and soon people began making their way back into the court house. She took another deep breath to steady herself and then looked up at Hochstetter.

"Major?"

"Hm?"

"One more song?" she asked, causing Hochstetter to grimace.

"You're not going to start screaming again, are you?"

If anyone could ruin a tender moment, it was this girl. ShadowHawk chuckled lightly. "Nah, this one's by Dave Matthews."

"Dave Matthews?" Hochstetter questioned, breaking the embrace. "Should I add that name to my list next to 'Metallic Disturbing'?" He began to start searching for the said list, forgetting about what had happened to it. ShadowHawk laughed again.

"Okay, first of all, it's 'Metallica' and 'Disturbed'; they're two separate bands, and two of my all-time favorites. And second of all, don't you remember? I ate your list."

"Ah, yes…" Hochstetter stopped looking for his list. "Why did you do that?"

"Eh, I guess you could say I felt it was my duty. Besides, it was either that or another author would have had to get that list from you… one way or another…"

ShadowHawk reached into her pocket and pulled out a small black device. Over their short time together, Hochstetter knew she called it an 'mp3 player' and he had quickly come to loathing it. She put the ear pieces in her ears and began searching for a song.

"You're going to sing whether I like it or not, aren't you?" Hochstetter sighed.

"Of course. You should know that by now."

She found the song she wanted and her finger hovered over the 'play' button.

"Hey, Major," she started.

"What?"

"Friends?" She offered an outstretched hand, hoping for friendship in return. Hochstetter's first thought was to deny her offer immediately and get as far away as he could from her, but he started thinking about everything she had done for him… and everything that she_ could_ do for him. The possibilities were endless, and her usefulness was just beginning.

"Alright," he said finally, granting her request and shaking her hand. "Friends."

ShadowHawk smiled like an idiot and, now satisfied, she pressed the button on her musical device. She had the volume up high enough that Hochstetter could hear the song starting. He knew it was pointless trying to stop her, so he gave in and began walking back into the court house. ShadowHawk was right at his side---again---whether he liked it or not. The girl didn't lie; the song she was listening to was definitely different from the ones she had tortured him with earlier.

"Oh, life it seems, the struggle between what we see and what we do… Well, I'm not going to change my ways just to please you or appease you…"

Hochstetter had to smirk; that last part was definitely true. The girl's eyes fell upon all the people walking back into the courtroom as she continued. The natural division between the Allies and the Germans did not escape her notice.

"Look at this crowd; six billion proud, willing to punch it out… Right, wrong, weak, strong, ashes to ashes… all fall down…"

Angel had waited for Hochstetter to return, and when he did with ShadowHawk by his side, she cast him a questioning look. Hochstetter smiled at her and assured her that everything was all right now. The three of them sat down, Hochstetter sitting in between the two women. ShadowHawk was looking around the courtroom, admiring the distinct groups the crowd split into naturally; there was the Allies, and the Germans, and a lot of the other authors sat together, too. She watched as the jury took their seats, as did Mason and Riker.

"Look around this round about; this merry-go-round and around… Well, if it all God's gaze upon us falls, it's with a mischievous grin, look at him…"

Her eyes fell upon both Mason and Riker.

"Forget about the reasons and the treasons we are seeking…"

With a quick glance at Angel and Hochstetter, she kept singing.

"Forget about the notion that our emotions can be kept at bay…"

ShadowHawk's gaze wandered over to the other authors and then the jury before Harry re-entered the courtroom and took his seat.

"Forget about being guilty, we are innocent instead…"

She knew the trial was pretty much over, so she snuggled up next to Hochstetter for one last time. Likewise, Hochstetter also knew that things were coming to a close, and why not end things on a good note? He put his arm around the girl just like he had already done with Angel, causing ShadowHawk to relax. Now all that was left for her to do was to await the verdict.

"…And soon we will all find our lives swept away…"

______ _____________________________________________________

A/N: There. I hope it didn't get too Mary-Sue-ish towards the end there, but I wanted myself to have a little happy ending (at least for now). Oh, and before I forget, the song I was singing is by Dave Matthews, as I mentioned in the chapter. It's called "Seek Up" and it's kinda funny to me how it seems to fit the situation… at least, in my mind it does… If you get a chance to listen to it, I highly suggest you do; it's really a great song, and Dave's just awesome… So… yeah!


	43. Powertalk by Hogan

Powertalk by Hogan

Submitted by Konarciq

* * * * * *

Harry sighed. "I thought we were practically done with this case, Riker. And now you tell me Hogan wants to testify _again_?" What more can he have to say?"

"Well, he told me he and his men have been trying their hand at fanfiction themselves lately, and apparently that has been quite a revelation for them."

Harry groaned. "Fanfic-characters writing fanfiction!?! If they're ever going to sue the person who invented fanfiction in the first place, I know what _my_ verdict would be."

***

The court-room was packed. It had been very quiet these past days, and people had passed the time with sight-seeing, going to the movies, and testing modern restaurants.

The jury had been preparing their decision, since the date of the final verdict was set for the end of this week.

But all of a sudden Colonel Hogan had decided to make yet another statement. And that – of course – caught everyone's interest after a week of happily hanging around New York City.

The judge opened the session. "Colonel Robert E. Hogan, may I remind you that you are still under oath?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay. Riker, go ahead."

Mason watched as a lynx as Riker approached the witness-stand.

"Colonel Hogan, is it true that you and your men recently have engaged yourselves in writing fanfiction yourselves?"

"Yes, that is true."

"Can you tell us when you started writing fanfiction?"

Hogan frowned. "Not exactly. About two weeks ago, I think." A sudden grin. "It's not going very fast. We're new at this, you know. And we have our jobs to do, too."

"According to the version you published through konarciq's account at the fanfiction-website, you told your men you were going to take a humorous revenge on a few authors. Is this true?"

"Yes sir."

"Can you tell us what happened next?"

"Of course." Hogan sat up. "I won't mention any names, but once we had written the ladies within our reach, some of the men continued to come up with all kinds of torture for the ladies. Water torture and electrocution were some of the more harmless suggestions, so you can imagine what the rest was like."

A few ladies in the author's section of the room paled.

"And they promised to keep any harm well within K-rating range!" ColHogan whispered shocked.

"And why was that, Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan took a deep breath. "It made me understand the other authors at last. It's all got to do with power."

"Power, Colonel?"

"Yes, power. How you handle power. As author, you have absolute power over the people you're writing about. To put it bluntly: it's no one but the author who decides whether you live or die. It's a power so all-encompassing, that the author is a god. A god with his own play-world."

People looked uneasily at each other as Hogan continued: "So all it comes down to is whether the author can handle power or not. Power means responsibility for the well-being of others: your subordinates, your people. For example: as senior officer in the camp, my first responsibility is to my men. All my men. All of Stalag 13, in a way even including Schultz and the Kommandant."

Klink shot up. "_He_ is responsible for _my_ well-being?!" A nervous laugh. "You are mistaken, Hogan: it's the other way around! You are in my custody, so I am responsible for your well-being instead!"

Hogan hadn't heard him. "But when power gets into the hands of people who can't handle it – like What's-his-name – then there will be no end to the suffering of his subordinates. Because a powerful man who can't handle power will totally ignore the needs of his people, and only pursue his own glory. With no thought whatsoever for the people under his command; they're merely stepping-stones on his way to greater personal glory. And if they become obstacles, they're simply disposed of."

Riker coughed. "And how do you say this ties in with the abusive fanfiction?"

"Easy." Hogan glanced over to the author's section. "These authors have absolute power over us. But clearly some of them can't handle that power. And they use us as stepping-stones on their way to personal glory."

"Er… what personal glory?" Riker looked puzzled. "As far as I understand, they don't earn any money with their stories, do they?"

"No, they don't. But what I meant was the appreciation of their fellow-authors. As we heard earlier in this trial, what they call 'angst' is a very popular genre here. And some authors decided to try that kind just to get more recognition from their fellow-authors. More recognition, more reviews… more personal glory. So just in order to get more recognition, they start abusing us, too. And from what I've seen from my men this past week, it occurs to me that this kind of behaviour simply means they need a few lessons in how to handle power."

Riker nodded. "Thank you, Colonel Hogan. No more questions."

The judge turned to Mason. "Mason, would you like to question the witness again?"

Mason jumped up as if there were a spring inside him. "Indeed I do, Your Honour!"

He quickly approached the witness-stand. "Colonel Hogan, I have a quote here from your very own story. You said: '_This is fiction, not for real, remember? We can do anything we want!_' Do you admit that you used this phrase?"

"Yes, I did," Hogan replied calmly. "But I would like you to..."

"You see, Your Honour?" Mason crowed triumphantly. "He's not a whit better than the defendants he's accusing! That should speak for itself! No more questions, Your Honour."

Mason retreated as proud as a peacock, but the judge said calmly: "Colonel Hogan, you were going to say more, weren't you? Mason had no right to cut you off like that. So please finish the statement you were going to make – the court is interested in your explanation for using those words."

"Thank you, Your Honour." Hogan cast a smug glance at Mason. "As I was saying, those words were used in relation to how to get four ladies from another era, another universe, and from all over the world to Stalag 13 within a day. So those words should be regarded in their context, and not separately.

"Secondly – as reasonably attentive readers surely have noticed – have I stressed my men several times that having the _power_ to do anything you want does not give you the _right_ to do anything you want. Again: in this story we have absolute power over the four ladies we're writing about. And I have every intention of using that power in a responsible way – the way we would like the authors to treat us. After all, our little story is to set an example, in every way. And I can promise the ladies in question that I'll make darned sure my men won't run off with the story by themselves. After the discussions we've had earlier this week, it's obvious that some of them can't handle power all that well either."

The judge smiled. "Thank you for explaining, Colonel. Are you done?"

"Yes, Your Honour."

"Good. Let's have some coffee then, before we have to decide on the final verdict."

* * *

That's it for the main portion of the Fanfic Court Trial, folks! The remainder, including the closing arguments and verdict, will be handled by our original poster, Snooky. Thanks again for all of your fantastic contributions! ---Bits and Pieces


End file.
